


Girls in Chains

by downtonarry



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Orange is the New Black Fusion, Assault, Cunnilingus, Eating Disorders, F/F, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In Chapter 10, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Character Death, Rape, Suicide Attempt, both in chapter 20, in Chapter 15, in chapter 17, in chapter 21, in chapter 22, in chapter 30, in chapter 8, this is absolute crack fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:16:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 32
Words: 165,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/downtonarry/pseuds/downtonarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoiled Cristiana finds herself having to serve 18 months in a low security prison, despite her insistence on her innocence. She manages to find a place in a small gang within the prison, but as she learns more about the politics of the incarcerated and wonders how different the ladies within the biggest rival gang are to her own, she falls deeper into the lives of women who are greatly misunderstood.</p><p> _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________</p><p>Orange is the New Black AU in which almost everyone's a girl, almost everyone's gay, and almost everyone has a tragic past. </p><p> </p><p>I adore comments! Let me know how you're feeling about it and if there's anything you want me to delve into further!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone: this was just something I kept dreaming up and I know it's super wacky and kind of dumb but I just want to go with it and see where it takes me.
> 
> Everyone is a woman pretty much except for a few people and I've changed their names accordingly. Also, I do have a lot of this planned out in my head, and it starts spreading away from just Cristiano and explores everyone else in much greater detail, so there will be a heavy amount of POV changes in this. 
> 
> It follows a really similar format as OITNB. Rich girl is put in prison helpless, drama ensues, and the backstories of the other characters are slowly revealed. I borrowed some key moments for the beginning of this story from the first OITNB episode, but after that, my intention is to make it completely original and I think it will be. 
> 
> Anyhow I know this is strange but here goes! :)

“Is it wrong that I’m only going to be gone fifteen months and yet I’m already scrambling about all the things I’m going to be missing? Oh, god, Game of Thrones. There’s going to be so much.”

“Don’t worry about the television, baby. Maybe not even fifteen months.” 

Cristiana tried to take a deep breath. Her mother was right. The television was the least of her concerns right now, but it was easier to focus on it rather than any of the rest of her woes. 

“And you’ll speak to Mr. Diaz as soon as you can?”

“Yes, baby.”

Her mother was too quiet. It made her silent as they drove up the increasingly small road towards the prison. The air suddenly felt heavy and suffocating in the car and she unrolled the window, even though it was a little chilly outside. The gates seemed to show up too fast and Cristiana felt like disappearing behind her mother like a shy toddler. 

The brusque prison guard with her hair swirled back into a bun through the window of the little gatehouse looked unimpressed. 

“There aren’t any visiting hours today.”

“Oh, no, no, my name is Cristiana Ronaldo, I’m here to surrender.” It seemed peculiar using that phrase, but apparently that was what you were supposed to say. 

The guard flipped open her little file folder and raised her eyebrows. “You’re right. Okay, follow the path up to the main entrance. There are parking passes.”

Cristiana’s mother rolled up the window and kept driving silently. 

“I’m sorry.”

There was a pause before her mother spoke. “Don’t be. I will speak to Mr. Diaz, and get this all cleared up in no time.”

Cristiana’s mother parked and Cristiana felt dizzy stepping out of the car.

“Are you alright? You’re swaying.”

“I’m fine. Let’s go.”

The even more bored and surlier guard waiting at the desk looked unimpressed when she came up to the desk. 

“Name? Full name.”

“Cristiana Ronaldo dos Santos Aveiro.” Cristiana felt taken aback at the sharpness of the guard. 

“Go sit. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

“How long will that be?”

“I don’t know.” The guard turned away and returned to her computer. 

Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then an hour, then two. Her mother got told off for bringing out a crochet needle to work on a scarf, and had to put it away in the car, followed by Cristiana later for bringing out her phone. It was miserable and Cristiana began making herself more and more psyched out of the mindset she’d worked so hard to be in when she arrived. The guard barely would give her a second glance, even when she tried to catch her eye and smile. 

“Maybe I should talk to her.”

“No, mama, just wait.” Cristiana lowered her voice. “At least I’m not gone yet.”

Nearly as soon as she’d said it, the guard looked up. “Hey, they’re ready for you. Say your goodbyes, quick now.”

Cristiana felt her eyes fill with tears. “Mama.”

“Don’t worry, baby. Don’t cry. I will see you soon, and before you know it, we’ll clear this up. All a mistake.” Her mother hugged her, smelling like all her warm self, and Cristiana sobbed harder. 

“Hey, come on! They’re not going to wait around for you!”

“You just made me wait.” Cristiana wiped her eye and let go. 

“Get used to it. Come on.”

Cristiana heard herself blabbering nonsensical instructions to her mother on stupid things like her Twitter as she followed the guard away from the safe waiting room. The last thing she saw was her crumpling face, so stoic until that moment.

“No point with the waterworks, princess.”

“I’ve literally just left my loved ones for a stint in prison.” Cristiana snapped, imagining how much her eyeliner was ruined as she wiped her face. 

“No backtalk.” The guard scowled, which replaced some of Cristiana’s sorrow with stubbornness, which was a bit of a relief. 

The next part was so overwhelmingly horrible Cristiana didn’t even want to ever remember it. She’d never been strip-searched before, and even though it was private, it was by far the most embarrassing thing she’d ever had to experience. The bra and panties she was handed after were, in the kindest words Cristiana could muster, horrific. They were something she’d never wear even if she were eighty, and made everyone look flabby. The woman who searched her shockingly left her with her hair extensions, waving her hand and saying lots of girls had them done at the hairdressers in the prison, which was a huge relief, at least. They were a bit of a safety blanket. Cristiana always tried very hard to look good, and her hair never seemed to get the length or fullness she wanted. 

“I was told we wouldn’t have to wear orange, and that it was blue.” Cristiana looked in dismay at the bright orange suit, so stereotypical of prison. She knew right off how bad it looked against her tan. 

“They are blue, princess, you just have to wear the orange one until you’re integrated into the building fully and you have a permanent arrangement.” 

Cristiana nodded blandly. 

“Right, so there’s a few of you heading off to the main building now, the van will come and take you.” The guard got up. “Follow me.” 

Cristiana followed along with the bundle of plain rubbish they’d handed her, feeling more and more tense about what the actual prison was like, if this horrible experience was just the tip of the hat. 

“Okay, okay, get in girls, get in there, there ‘ya go.” 

Cristiana was shocked to see another prisoner in the van’s driver’s seat. She had curly and very fluffy medium brown hair that was pretty short, only coming a little past her ears. She had a little makeup on, which soothed Cristiana that makeup was available in prison, and a friendly face. Her accent was a little bit different than a normal Spanish one and Cristiana couldn’t quite place it, although she imagined hers stuck out even more. 

“Do you drive this? You’re allowed?”

“Somebody’s got to do it, right?” She laughed. “Gets us out and about at least a little bit. What’s everybody’s names?” 

Cristiana was never a shy one. “Cristiana.”

“No, no, we don’t do that here, we go by last names. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t. Like I’m Roberto.” 

“Oh.” Cristiana didn’t like that. Her last name was a boy’s first name. But at least this girl’s was too. “Ronaldo.” 

The girl, now dubbed Roberto, laughed again. “Okay, okay, good.” She listened intently to the rest of the girls, even the mumbling ones, taking in each of their names. 

Cristiana felt a little better. This girl didn’t seem so bad. She talked a lot, though. Yapping to the other girls incessantly. Cristiana became painfully aware the other girls were likely not nearly as well-off as she was. They looked a lot more tired, their eyes sunken in. She hoped hers wouldn’t do that. 

“Okay.” Roberto stopped the van and turned around again. “I’ll show you around once we’re in, then we should have time for supper. I think it’s Euro night, get ready for lots of greasy chips. We all like it anyway, so you might have to throw some punches.”

Roberto leapt out of the van, looking continually peppy. “Right, right, come on, we’ll get right on track to the bathrooms, recreational rooms, we have a library. Everything’s not so bad here, y’know? Watch her,” Roberto pointed to an inmate a short ways away on the grass, for no particular reason. “She’s a good lady but, just watch her.” Roberto turned at this point, spotting Cristiana again. “So where you from, Ronaldo? Just wondering, y’know, just to make it easier when you try to find a spot at dinner.”

“What? I’m Portuguese.” Cristiana figured Roberto targeted her because she’s spoken first, but walking through the prison in orange while all the women in blue stared at them menacingly was making her more tense. 

“Portuguese, Portuguese, eh? You’ll go to Eurotrash then, I guess. Awfully close to us, but y’know.”

“What?” 

“Everybody separates into their groups, y’know? There’s kind of the core group of us, the Spanish, splits into us Catalonian lot and the regulars a bit, the Latinas, the Brazilians, they make up a group big enough to hang out together, the random assorted Euros, and a few other fringe groups, right? Not that you can’t have friends or groups outside of your main group, but that’s your lifeline.”

Cristiana must have made quite a face because Roberto looked concerned. 

“It’s not racist or anything, no, that’s just how it is.”

“Segregation? How will I know who the Eurotrash are?” Cristiana felt like fainting from all this. 

“Look for the double natural blondies at the dinner table, they’ll be near each other, one short and one tall, that’s Rakitic and ter Stegen. Croatian and German, you see what I mean? Go sit with them. They’re good people. You’ll meet the rest there.”

Cristiana got shuffled back as the other girls clamored forward to ask what group they would be a part of, and she didn’t mind. It was enough to process that there was distinct racial groups here, something so fucking weird and foreign feeling, even though she supposed they existed in different ways in daily life. The tour was boring and a bit nerve-wracking, particularly when she saw the state of the bathrooms and Roberto announced they would all need shower sandals immediately or so help them God, but before long Roberto dropped them off in the dinner room and disappeared into the crowd of girls, who were indeed excited for their plate of what looked like beef and chips. Cristiana scanned the crowd for blondes. There were some blondes, some brighter bottle blondes, some dirtier blondes. There they were, though. Two girls who were unmistakably natural blondes, moving through the lineup, smiling and chatting quietly with each other. The shorter one was really pretty, actually, Her eyes were slanted up just a tiny bit so she looked a little elfin, and her hair had an awfully good blowout for prison. The taller girl was much blander, broad with straight thinner hair to her shoulders, but Roberto was right. They looked safe. She hung back until they were parked at a table, then she moved in. 

“Ratikic?” Cristiana felt herself stumbling over the name, and felt embarrassed. “Or ter Stegen, I think she said?”

The prettier one smiled, eyebrows raised. “Rakitic, yes. You’re one of the new babies, yes? Well, of course you are. Are you with us, new baby?”

Cristiana couldn’t keep track of the amount of new names she had received today, but at least none were offensive. “Cris--, I mean, Ronaldo. I was told to go here because I was Eurotrash.”

“Ronaldo, eh? Wouldn’t have thought it, look a bit Latina to me. Well, welcome aboard, welcome aboard, eh, Maria?”

Ter Stegen looked up from her beef, where she appeared to have actually been enjoying it, and nodded. Quiet thing, Cristiana guessed. 

“I was just told everyone went by their last name. Is that...?”

“Always room for a little variation, Ronaldo. I call her Maria because I call her Maria. You’ll figure out real soon what you call people, but just start with last names, right?”

Cristiana nodded, feeling strangely chastised, and tried to turn her mind to the beef and chips, but it looked awful. Another girl sat beside her, a white girl with a big floppy lazy bun on the top of her head and a bit of an ugly face, although she did have big eyes that were rather pretty. Cristiana didn’t know how quite to describe it, exactly. Maybe her mouth was a little ape-ish. 

“Hey, sweetheart, what do they call you?”

Cristiana resigned herself to having to repeat herself for days on end. “Ronaldo.” 

“Ronaldo, cool. I’m Bale.” Bale had an accent so overwhelmingly different from everyone elses’ even Rakitic, but Cristiana sorted she was maybe British, especially with a name like Bale. Cristiana had tried hard to learn English when she was younger and gave it a shot with her best English accent. 

“Are you from England, Bale?”

Bale grinned and answered back in English. “Not bad, Ronaldo. You’re close. I’m Welsh. I guess you’re one of those smart ones.” Bale changed back to Spanish. “Listen, tomorrow, I’ll bring you around to my mates, right? I don’t think you’ll stick around with their mates, their group is tight.” Bale pointed at Rakitic and ter Stegen, who both nodded a little bit in response. 

“So you do have a second group?”

“Of course. I like these fuckers, and the rest,” Bale gestured to the rest of their table. “But they’re not my day group.” 

“This is just so confusing.” Cristiana almost put her face in her beef in misery. 

“Don’t worry about it. Seriously, though, no room to be fucking with their group.”

“They’re not that bad.” Rakitic gestured her fork at Bale. 

“Who is in the group?”

“Erm, there’s Neymar, Roberto, Bartra, Kun, Pique, and Little General, and these two. There’s Bartra and Roberto,” Bale pointed at familiar giddy Roberto standing with a tall dark-haired girl with a literally perfect makeup contoured face and piercing eyes that Cristiana noticed all the way across the room. “The rest are over there, coming in.” 

Cristiana turned, and felt puzzled with the four people she was staring at. There were two very tiny and a little chubby women, both no more than about 5’0 or 5’1. The one who was a little thinner was Latina and had both sides of her head shaved, the dark hair in the middle long and collected in a bun, while the other looked white and had quite long and fluffy brown hair, and tremendously large breasts. The Latina had a really sweet and friendly face, with big doe eyes, but the other had a stern and awkward face, with a really big nose and large ears that stuck out. There was a darker girl next, a couple inches taller, but still short with an obviously tiny figure underneath. She had a huge mass of long, tightly curled hair on her head, one little bit of it shaved off in a strip and another piece dyed blond haphazardly. Finally, bringing up the rear, was a woman that was quite frankly massive, and Cristiana didn’t mean fat. She was towering over everybody in the room, quite literally, even the male guards, and while she wasn’t at all overweight, she was incredibly broad. In fact, actually built much like a man with a fairly flat chest too, with a short men’s style haircut that quiffed out at the top. Her eyebrows were thick, although pretty well groomed, and set close to her eyes, making her look even more menacing. The four of them separated once entering, the giant one making her way towards Roberto and Bartra at the Spanish table, the Brazilian to her own table, and both tiny ones to the Latinas, even though only one looked it. 

“Which one is which?”

“Pique’s the big one, and really, don’t fuck with her. I mean it. Pretty much Little General’s hired muscle to her and her two fuckbuddies. ”

Rakitic rolled her eyes. 

“Those two? Which one is Little General?” Cristiana was quickly losing her sense of fear for the day, those feelings replaced with fascination as to what she was watching. 

“That’s Little General, the one with the brown hair. You can call her Messi. Or La Pulga. Whatever you feel like. She fucks Kun, you call her Aguero for now, because it’s familiar. She fucks Neymar, because, well, look at her.”

Bale was right. Neymar was gorgeous. She was making a big loud ruckus over at the Brazilian table, but then, they were all loud. 

“She’s just scaring you, they’re nice. But I don’t think Messi’s willing to let anyone else in at the moment, so better go off with her the next couple of days.” Rakitic pushed her tray aside. 

Ter Stegen finally spoke. “You think Ramos will?”

“I’ll talk to her.” Bale took a sip of her juice. 

“Thank you?” Cristiana didn’t know what else to say. She felt plagued with curiosity as to what all these girls had done, but knew not to mention it. She didn’t want anyone asking her, especially as she didn’t even know how to explain it. She was also becoming grossly curious at how many of these women were lesbians, or at least acted like lesbians in prisons. Already she knew this Little General Messi or whatever was, and Neymar and Aguero, and there was no doubt in her mind that Pique was without knowing a thing about her. But she wondered about the rest around. Bale acted a bit boyish and had eyed her up a little. Rakitic and ter Stegen seemed awfully close although she couldn’t read their relationship. 

“No problem, sweetheart.” Bale popped her last chip into her mouth. “Right, I’m off to go do something useless with my evening. Have fun.” 

She disappeared out the door of the dinner hall, and the sense of dread in Cristiana came back. She’d have to sleep here tonight, with someone she didn’t know, and that was quickly coming up. Rakitic and ter Stegen got up as well, and Cristiana got a bit desperate feeling. 

“You’re leaving? Where are you going?”

“Off to the library, I think. We like our quiet evenings.”

“Where do I go tonight?”

“Oh, shit, they didn’t tell you?” Rakitic sat back down momentarily. “New inmates have a separate area while they sort everyone and get you a new roommate. It’s bunk beds in sets of four, really temporary. They’ll probably give you a place tomorrow morning or the next. They’ll round you lot up tonight. Easy to pick out in orange.” She got back up and disappeared out the door with ter Stegen, and Cristiana suddenly felt panic at being alone in the dining room. Every noise was suddenly magnified, and Cristiana became profoundly aware at how loud Pique was, louder than every single other woman, her voice raising across the Spanish table all the way to Eurotrash. She took the tray with the awful beef, only a few bites out of it, and tossed it into the garbage, before rushing out, almost bumping into a slightly older black woman with a large afro. 

“Hey, hey, slow down, new one. Nowhere to be on your first day.” The woman spoke with such calmness and maternal authority that Cristiana felt herself burst into tears. In one quick motion, the woman swept Cristiana under her arm and turned her down the less busy hall off the main one. 

“I’m, I’m—...” Cristiana’s voice was already hitching from barely breathing through the tears. 

“Deep breath, come on. Deep breath. Good, good.” 

Cristiana was still being held against the woman’s bosom until she started breathing a bit better, in pace with the woman’s own breathing.

“That’s good. Tears will get you nowhere in here, nowhere. I know, the first day is scary, get it out in bed when you can be alone.”

Cristiana wiped her face, imagining just how bad her makeup was by this point. “I’m sorry, I’ve stopped now. I’m Cristiana. Or Ronaldo, or whatever.” 

“Mama Marcelo. Look at you, so pretty.”

“You’re the fifth person I’ve met and nobody seems awful at all, but I keep hearing all these terrible things and I’m scared.”

“There’s a lot of good souls in here, Cristiana. Don’t be so frightened. We’re all here, just making it every day through it all.”

~

“Rise and shine, inmates, time to get up.” 

Cristiana woke up to the rattling of a baton on the side of the metal bunkbed. Morning had come way too soon. She had spent most of the night crying, but at least she’d heard some sobs from the other girls. That was of some comfort, to know they were suffering too, weirdly.

“Better get in line for those showers, the hot water goes fast.”

That got her up. If there was one thing Cristiana needed, it was a shower to rid herself of yesterday. She followed the trail of women in assorted sweatpants and nightshirts to the bathrooms, and there was quite the lineup, but at least she wasn’t last, not by far. There was a weird sense of camaraderie in the bathroom, oddly. There were women everywhere barking for people to get out of showers and toilet stalls, but lots of laughter and talking too. And breasts. She’d never seen so many kinds of breasts in her life, all out in the open as women dried off. Bale was close by, unshowered and topless, her towel slung across her to half cover her own breasts. Cristiana considered approaching her, but she was with a couple other girls and it would probably seem weird, so she stopped herself and just stayed silent and waited her turn. 

Cristiana did feel much better once she was finally in a stall, the water indeed washing away some of yesterday. Cristiana felt glad she’d already put money in her commissary fund and had at least had the foresight to get sandals last night, because the floors really were disgusting. There was a weird noise in the stall next to her, though. A sort of shrieky noise that honestly didn’t sound good. She was taller than the stall and couldn’t help but throw her eyes over the edge to see why. 

Immediately she wished she hadn’t. Little General Messi and Aguero were both in the stall, Aguero pinned against the wall and screeching like a cat while Messi’s mouth was buried in Aguero’s crotch. Cristiana diverted her eyes and kept her head down for the rest of the shower, feeling embarrassed and dirty for ever seeing that. It wasn’t that she was pure, exactly, but the sex she’d ever had with boyfriends had always been pretty tame, and private. There was nothing private about what they were doing and they knew it. It was digusting, especially in these showers. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a banging on her shower stall, followed by the unmistakable yelling she’d heard yesterday. 

“There’d better be some fucking hot water left, or I swear to god!”

“I’m going, I’m going, I think there’s a little left, wait, wait.” Cristiana threw off the water and fumbled for her towel. Pique scared the shit out of her, honestly, and she’d get out of the way for her. She opened the door to see Pique towering over her, wrapped up in her towel that was way too short for her. 

“Those tits real, girl? Let me see those.” Pique pulled down Cristiana’s towel a little, and for the first time, she felt properly scared. They weren’t real, actually, she’d not liked how flat they’d gotten after she’s started working out a lot and had gotten them done to feel better about herself, even though she knew she was young. 

“Um, please, just...” 

Pique just laughed and let go before marching into the shower, starting to sing something obnoxiously. Cristiana ducked away to get dressed, feeling strange. Yes, the first daze of yesterday had been washed away, but that entire episode back there had been weird and uncomfortable. Like the reality of prison might actually be setting in. She would have liked to do her hair and eyebrows properly at least before going off to eat, but the bathroom looked scary and crowded still and she wasn’t about to get caught by Pique on the way out, so she ducked out for breakfast instead, hoping Bale or someone would be around soon. 

Breakfast was a very different atmosphere than dinner, the women moving sluggishly around the hall with less vigor. Breakfast looked disgusting and unhealthy, but she took a bit of egg anyway, hoping it wasn’t too horrible. 

“Hey, Ronaldo, over here, right?”

It was Bale, which was a relief, her wet hair slung up in an identical sloppy bun from yesterday. Cristiana noticed there was actually a bit of a discrepancy in what everyone wore. Some wore the blue jumpsuit in its entirety, others just the blue bottoms with a grey sweatshirt or white t-shirt, while others appears to have different tracksuit bottoms that were grey, or hoodies over their jumpsuit. Bale was a hoodie girl, having it over a t-shirt, with the tracksuit bottoms. 

“Are we going to go sit with Eurotrash?”

“Yeah, just come meet Ramos for a second. RAMOS!”

A woman from the Spain table, and Cristiana figured it was the non-Catalonia half, got up and approached Bale. She was tall, probably as tall as Cristiana but not nearly as tall as Pique, and she had straight light brown hair pushed back in a headband. She looked a bit boring and stern but not unpretty, and Cristiana remained silent behind Bale. 

“This is Ronaldo, who I mentioned. I don’t think any of us want anyone else pulling shit over in Messi’s camp, we got room to have her tag around?”

Ramos looked Cristiana up and down, critically. “Oh, sweetheart, what did you do?”

“I thought, I thought you didn’t ask someone that.”

“What?” Ramos’ face soured for a second, before she laughed a bit cruelly. “She seems like a rich fucking idiot, Gwen. But we can give a shot at making sure she doesn’t end up like Geri, eh?” She laughed again, and Cristiana felt hurt that someone would say that without even knowing her. 

“Who’s Geri?” Cristiana looked at the ugly slipper-like shoes on her feet a little so she wouldn’t have to look at Ramos. 

“Pique, babe, she comes from gobs of money. You promise if I take you in that you won’t act up and pull shit? We’re a clean group.”

Cristiana nodded resolutely, looking up at Ramos properly. 

“Good girl. Go eat then.” Ramos sat back down and Cristiana noticed Mama Marcelo go sit with another middle aged woman at the Brazilian table as she followed Bale to their own table. It was good to note who liked to hang out with who. 

“I feel I should know the guards’ names, you know? Help me sort out who is kind and who isn’t.”

“Good call, Ronaldo.” Bale ate a piece of her breakfast ham absently. “Okay, so in the room here, we have Masche, he’s the baldy, if you don’t bug him you’ll be okay, and over there is Benzema, the one with the beard. He’s not too bad, although he’s a little bit of a peeper. Supervisors are Zidane and Enrique, you can play either one to your advantage but you won’t have both on your side. That’s Maradona, he’s new and I don’t know much about him. For the girls, that’s Roccuzzo there, and honestly, you’re not going to get shit out of her because she’s wrapped up in Messi’s group. I’ll point out others when we see them, but that’s them for now.” 

“Which supervisor is on your side?”

“Zidane. Enrique’s fucking crazy, I swear.” 

“Oh, he is not.” Rakitic waved her cereal spoon at Bale this time. “He listens to concerns and he can have a good laugh.”

“See what I mean, Ronaldo? You’ll see who’s on your side soon enough.”

There was an announcement a minute later, from a stony sounding woman telling everyone to report to their rooms for a check after breakfast. Did her room count?

“Do I go to that big place with all the bunkbeds?”

“Yeah, they’re going to search your stuff. I guess they’re sniffing around for something. Not a big deal.” Bale got up and dumped the rest of her food, before heading off in the direction of her own room. Nobody seemed bothered by this search, which seemed strange, but if they were common enough she guessed not. Cristiana went as quickly as she could back to the bunkbed with the rest of the new, now even more scared girls, and looked around for what she was supposed to do. 

“Hands behind your back, inmate, standing back against the wall.” It was the guard Bale had said was named Benzema. Cristiana did what she was told and waited until he was done rummaging through her rubbish, which was uncomfortable, but she supposed most things were going to be until she was used to them. Cristiana hated how worthless she felt whenever a guard barked at her, like she really was trash to be controlled, but she supposed that was the point of prison. 

“Okay, inmates.” Benzema listened to a message on his walkie-talkie. “Collect your things, they’re ready to shuffle you into rooms.”

Cristiana felt relieved. She hated the weird bunkbed room. She knew she’d still be in a larger room separated by partitions, but it would still be more private. She hadn’t really used any of the shit they’d given her yet, so she collect the blanket bundle and followed the other girls. As long as she wasn’t with the scary Pique, she would be fine. 

Another guard, a brusque looking woman, was waiting in the bedrooms, while curious other girls were peering out of their respective bedrooms. There was six of them, Cristiana figured, that were being sorted into new rooms and the rest of the women were probably pretty curious. The guard listed off the other girls before Cristiana, she thought alphabetically, sending them to different rooms in the ward, or whatever it was to be called, before finally turning to Cristiana. 

“You must be Ronaldo, then?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Cristiana looked down. 

“Right, RODRIGUEZ.”

“WHICH ONE?” A Latina girl from across the room barked back, which Cristiana thought was a little funny but didn’t let it show. 

“VERY FUNNY, YOU KNOW WHO’S BEEN LIVING SOLO.” 

A smaller, lighter skinned Latina with dark shiny shoulder length hair poked her head out of her cubby. “Whaddaya want, my life in the lap of luxury about to be up?”

“Here’s your new roommate, Ronaldo. Make her welcome.” The guard left abruptly, leaving Cristiana on her own with this new one. 

“Ronaldo, eh? Come in then.” Rodriguez gestured to her bed and plopped on her own. Cristiana was comforted to see little pieces of personal items, probably sent from home, in the room on her half. It wasn’t totally devoid of personality. 

“Rodriguez, okay. Hello.” 

“You can call me Jamie, actually, there’s too many Rodriguez’s to be asking for one of us. There’s your bed and shelf. Hope you don’t do weird shit in your sleep.”

“Um, I don’t think so, no. No one has ever said so.”

“Good.” Jamie gave Cristiana a solid whack on the shoulder, although she didn’t feel it was nasty or a warning. “I liked living by myself, no new ones for three weeks.” 

“Where did your last roommate go?”

Jamie shrugged, which Cristiana thought was weird. 

“Well, I hope we get along.” 

“Saw you with Bale, there.”

“Oh, um, yeah.” Cristiana held her tongue. She didn’t know if Jamie liked Bale or not, or if she was part of a different group. 

“That’s cool, Bale’s cool. Reckon I’ll see you around a lot.” 

Cristiana decided Jamie must be part of Ramos’ group but didn’t want to ask that far, instead trying to put away her meager possessions somewhat tidily.

“Just make sure your bed is done up like mine, right? They do room checks for this kinda shit a lot.”

“Sure, sure. Do you think I’ll get my blue kit soon?”

Jamie shrugged again. “Who gives a shit, really, it’s all ugly bag shit.”

“The orange looks really bad on me, unflattering.”

Jamie cocked an eyebrow. “You’re fuckin’ right. Jesus, you’re darker than me, is that fake?”

“Um, no, I just like tanning.”

“I see that.”

Cristiana decided to give it a shot. “Do you hang out with Ramos?"

“Yeah, yeah, I guess so, sometimes.” 

“Bale said she would take me around with you guys.”

“Be my fucking guest.”

~

“Yeah, Shakira said that there was this thing she was watching, and there was these monkeys that are completely lesbians that—“

“Shakira, Shakira, Shakira, we know, shut the fuck up, Geri. What the fuck do you even talk about on the phone? You get to monkey lesbians?” Leo put her legs up on the back of the chair. The blaring noise of Neymar yelling aerobic instructions to flabby older inmates over the shitty old Brazilian hip hop tapes Neymar had brought with her was a bit comforting. It was Wednesday, designated Activities Day kind of by accident, and Neymar always did aerobics right after Rakitic’s yoga on purpose because she felt yoga was stupid. Kun was out there happily playing along to the aerobics and doing a much better job than the ladies around her, although she wasn’t as agile as Neymar. It was fun to watch them. Leo enjoyed exercising, actually, quite a bit, but she was not really a fan of dance exercise. It was frustrating how she always seemed thick and dense and never as thin as someone like Neymar, even though she was quite fast and liked game sports a great deal, always had. She supposed it had to do with all her health hormone rubbish earlier in life, but it was annoying as fuck. 

“We like to have genuine conversations, Leo, that’s what healthy couples do.”

“I’d say you’re on a fucking prison call and monkey lesbians can probably wait.”

“We talk every day, we get to a lot, I dunno.”

“You’re lucky your family sends you so much goddamn commissary money.”

“I know, isn’t it great?” Geri got up to get an ice cream bar out of the vending machine. 

“Spoiled bitch, that’s what. The rest of us have to work for our chump change.”

Geri stuck her tongue out at Leo in response. She was a funny sort, really. She wasn’t very liked by many of the inmates, partly because she was rich and very well-educated, but mostly because she never bothered getting respectfully initiated into a group and skipped right to beating people up for what she wanted practically by day two. It was one way to assert dominance, to never show weakness even newly vulnerable in prison, and Leo had liked that. She learned soon after that Geri was really sharp and funny, but also fiercely loyal, particularly in regards to her long time girlfriend Shakira, and never even considered having a little fun with any of the other women. She was also unbelievably smart. She’d nearly been a doctor, actually, until she was put in prison. There was no doubt she was extremely intense in everything she did in life, but Leo kind of liked that. She supposed she was intense too and that’s why they were both pretty driven people before their falls. 

Geri sat back down with her ice cream bar. “What do you think of the new ones, then? Kind of a hot mess. I talked to one briefly today. Do you want a bite?”

Leo took the ice cream bar and took a bite and handed it back. “When did you talk to one?”

“In the showers, I said hi to the one that looks like she’s trying to be a model, that I heard Sabi tried to make sort of a push to join us. You missed it because you were being a sick fuck with Kun.”

“I like everyone to know I take care of my girls. She didn’t come say hi so Sabi can’t have done a good job.”

“I know she tried, she sent her over to Maria and Ivana but Bale got in the way and I think Ivana wasn’t going to fuck with it.” 

“Fair, I guess.”

Leo leaned back in her chair to watch Neymar and Kun bounce around the floor. There were a lot of events that always seemed to degenerate in the prison, but yoga into aerobics always seemed to be a peaceful part of the afternoon. It was both Ivana’s and Neymar’s sunny attitudes, Leo realized. Not that Neymar didn’t have spunk, but it was hard to dislike her. 

Leo wished her own attitude was better. Prison was horrific and she hated every fucking second of it, even when she was pretending she didn’t. It was hard to hate the girls in it, but Leo could never stop thinking about the way her life used to be and how much everything always went her way. Well, she got as much her way as possible in here, but her old days were honestly spectacular. 

“You look pensive.” Geri finished sucking on the ice cream bar stick. 

“Just watching my girls.”

“You love pretending you have a little fucking harem, you know? People believe it.”

“Would it be me if I wasn’t doing the most, Geri?”

“You honestly like winning more than I do.”

Neymar finished up the song and bounded over while the other girls took a breather. Her energy was unstoppable. 

“You should come dance with us one day, Leo, I know I always ask but I think it’d be fun. You’d be better than you think, I know you would. Geri? How about you?”

“I think I’ll stick to pick up games of footie in the yard, love.” Leo glanced to see where the guard’s eyes were, and as expected, they were on the sweaty women, so she leaned in and gave Neymar a kiss. 

“And me to my pumping iron.” Geri got up. “I’m going outside for a little while, maybe go for a little jog."

“Go, go work off that ice cream bar.” 

“Are you calling ME fat, Leo?” Geri ruffled Leo’s hair a bit then wandered off, the thrill of watching women bounce around not enough to keep her interested. Geri liked a lot of mental stimulation. Leo boredly watched other girls wander in and out, noting when they’d try to move away from one other or even try to push a little. She liked knowing exactly who was in with who. It made deciding who to make alliances with easy. She knew her group was a little funny, but she really did try to pick the best of who was out there. Either people that were sweet and docile, or as calculating as she was like Geri or Marta. The other groups always seemed to have interpersonal drama when someone wanted to be the leader or someone felt too pushed around. It had happened in Ramos’ group too many times, except for a few key members, but never in Leo’s. She knew even Geri or Marta would never try to bandy her for power, they both wanted out of prison bad enough to stay in their own corner. Not that it worked for Geri very well. She was usually in solitary confinement at least once or twice a month. 

“Is that one of the new ones, Leo? Look, look. I wasn’t paying too much attention last night.”

Neymar was poking Leo a lot. When she looked up, it was indeed one of the new ones, the pretty one Geri had mentioned earlier. She was anxiously mincing through the room alone, trying to pass through it without having to talk to anyone. Leo decided not to bother her by stopping her, she looked like she’d probably be a right bitch, particularly if she wanted to be a part of Ramos’ group, but there was no point in scaring her now. She swung around down the hall with an obvious agenda but no particular idea where she was going, it seemed. Probably was told to meet up with Ramos and her group somewhere but nobody told her where. Like a good new prisoner, there was no way she was going to ask anyone. Leo wished she could get a better sense of the girl, but was immediately struck with how she didn’t think it would work out in Ramos’ group. A girl like that, rich and beautiful, was bound to have a complex and would inevitably want to lead. 

~  
“We were wondering what happened to you, sweetheart.” Bale smiled as Cristiana rushed into the TV room, flustered and nearly in tears.

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t...”

“Don’t worry, we were just watching the game.” Bale flashed her eyes back to the rather shitty television screen, where all the eyes in the room were glued. “We’re not really an exciting bunch.”

Cristiana felt weird but wandered over to watch the game with them. If it was just going to be like this, maybe she wouldn’t mind having a group. 

Bale flipped her hand at the direction of the little group. “Ronaldo, everyone.”

Someone pointed. “Are those titties real?”

Was that a question that was going to come up a lot? Cristiana gaped her mouth a bit like a fish, unsure of what to say. 

Ramos cocked an eyebrow. “We’ll learn soon enough. Okay, you know me, Bale, and Jamie, that’s Pepa, Kroos, and Carvajal. You can see we’re a bit small at the moment.”

Cristiana nodded, and was struck at what a bunch of not particularly attractive women they were, except for Jamie, who was quite pretty. What with Bale’s monkey face, albeit a sweet one, and messy hair, and Ramos’ sternness, neither were big lookers. Kroos had really short boyish blond hair and a cold face while Carvajal had thick crazy eyebrows and just overall looked unkempt. Pepa had to be one of the ugliest women Cristiana had ever seen, though. She looked like a little bulldog and had nearly all the way buzzed off hair. She looked a little older than the rest too, probably worn from prison years longer than the rest. Cristiana immediately noted that other than Little General Messi herself and Pique, she seemed to choose a far more attractive group. 

Pepa spoke first, which made Cristiana a bit nervous. “You sit at our table, where are you from?”

Cristiana hadn’t even noticed her. Bale didn’t sit anywhere near her at the Eurotrash table. “Portugal, actually, although I’ve been in Spain for quite awhile.”

“Oh, good girl, me too.” Pepa smiled and Cristiana felt obliged to smile back. 

“What do you think she did?” Kroos was smirking and rolling something small in her hand, offhandedly speaking to Bale rather than Cristiana’s face. It was an overwhelming feeling. Every book and online source had said not to discuss what your crimes were with other inmates and never to ask yet everyone seemed to keep asking. 

“I think she killed her rich old husband.” Ramos said it so unclearly that Cristiana couldn’t tell if it were a joke or not. 

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that, I promise.”

“Then, what did you do?”

Cristiana waffled. She didn’t want to go blabbing on things that were already so up in the air for her, and just shrugged instead. 

“Alright, Black Widow, don’t worry, we won’t push.”

Great. Another nickname. And this one sounded like it might stick. Cristiana finally felt enough nerve to perch on the edge of the kind of gross sofa and watch the game with them, hoping this was her official inauguration. Ramos moved over and tucked an arm around Bale while they kept watching the game, and Cristiana felt confused. 

“What do...what do you all do all day? Is there lots of free time?

“We all work in different departments of the prison, actually.” Ramos shifted herself to fit more comfortably around Bale when she tucked her head on Ramos’ shoulder.   
“Laundry, electronics, kitchen, you get the gist. You’ll get placed soon enough. They’ll give you a smart girl job, probably.” 

Cristiana wanted to ask if Ramos and Bale were girlfriends, desperately, but kept her mouth shut and nodded. 

“What do you like to do, Cristiana, you know, beyond murdering your lover and cashing in on that sweet life insurance policy?” Ramos seemed so harsh, everything she said was probably a joke but it just never sounded like it. Cristiana was already trying to adjust and expect that everything she seemed to say would be biting. 

“I was a personal trainer, actually, I really like fashion and designing as well, and I enjoy doing some volunteering.”

Nobody said anything. Obviously what she said was stupid. Cristiana tried to smile. 

“You’re going to be a challenge, honey.”

~

“See, night bathroom isn’t so bad, now is it?” Jamie folded her face towel and tucked it into her cubby, before curling up on her bed. She had a big baggy dark grey night shirt that made her look a little kiddish. She picked up a book and while she focused on it before lights out, Cristiana tried looking harder around the cubby. There were some pictures on the little desk of some scenery and also an odd little picture taped up of a Japanese-style drawn girl, manga, Cristiana believed it was called. It looked like it was meant to be of Jamie, roundhouse kicking a karate block. 

“What’s that, then?” Cristiana figured it was a good starting place for a conversation, even though Jamie was reading.

“Oh, it’s a doodle someone did of me, Kun, one of the other girls from my table. It’s easy to find where she lives, she’s a fucking riot.” Jamie pointed out across the way, and Cristiana could see what she meant. Right across from them was a bizarre looking room, half of it plain and boring, the other half coated in every space probably appropriately possible in drawings, all manga drawings. They were pretty good, from what Cristiana could tell. The bedroom was empty when she’d peered in, but before long a tall middle aged woman wandered to the empty half and the girl with the shaved sides of her head that Little General Messi had eaten out in the shower bounded to her colourful half. Cristiana recalled she had been told her name was Kun or Aguero. Too many details to keep straight.

“Does she draw anyone?”

“Yes. Literally anyone.” Jamie didn’t look like she didn’t want to talk more, but Cristiana tried pushing it a little further. She had so many questions.

“Are Ramos and Bale girlfriends?”

Jamie put the book down and looked tired with her. “No, they’re not.”

“But they were...”

“They’re not fucking.”

Cristiana stopped talking and quietly rolled over. So they weren’t girlfriends. She supposed she’d figure out soon enough what they were.

~

“So how’s morning two, sweetheart?” Bale flopped into her regular seat, the same wet hair slung into the same wet messy bun. 

“It’s okay, still waiting to get rid of the orange suit.” Cristiana wondered how she could make it down for breakfast without looking like a huge slob. She saw some women were properly made up when they came down. She’d have to figure out how to locate some makeup. It wasn’t in her not to be dolled up whenever possible and this was taking a toll. 

“It’ll come. I hated it too.”

“How do the other girls get makeup, Bale?”

“Oh, I don’t know really. You trade for stuff. I think there might be a few basics in the commissary although I don’t really look.”

“I really need some.”

Bale waved this off and took a bite of toast.

Cristiana noticed Kroos further down the table, and Pepa too. “How come we don’t sit with them?”

“Eh, we hang out enough during the day, it’s okay. I like to get around and make company. Bug these two a little.” Bale gestured to ter Stegen and Rakitic, both quietly eating cereal, although ter Stegen had some breakfast sausage set aside as well. 

“Okay.” Cristiana really only felt comfortable talking to Bale. She got the sense Bale wouldn’t hurt her, although she didn’t know why. She desperately wanted to know why this Welsh girl was doing time at all, but knew not to ask. Instead, she turned to ter Stegen. 

“Do you and Kroos talk much? Both being Germans? At least, I assumed she was, I suppose she could be Dutch, or something.”

Ter Stegen looked more startled than Cristiana expected to be put on the spot. “Yes, we are Germans.” 

She stayed quiet again until Rakitic broke in to answer the first part of the question. “We don’t get on well with most of Ramos’ group. Bale here is an exception. But who really hates Bale?”

“You’re such a gem, Ivana.” Bale took another bite of toast. 

“But I saw Aguero, or Kun or whoever, drew Jamie a picture.”

“She’s drawn a picture of everyone.” 

Cristiana nodded and tried to take a spoonful of yoghurt, but in that split second of bringing the yoghurt to her lips, there was a crash and women were instantly getting up and shouting around her. As Rakitic got up amongst the shuffle of women, Cristiana had a good vantage point to see what was going on. Pique and Ramos were standing up, a soft fried egg falling off Ramos’ top, while they shoved and shouted. Guards were rushing over, more shouting ensued, and soon there was a message that everyone was to go back to their bunks immediately. Ter Stegen hadn’t moved and Cristiana could swear there was a flicker of an eye roll when the announcement went off, but she got up, shoving a couple of the breakfast sausages right into her pocket. It was such a surreal scene to Cristiana that she felt a little light-headed, and turned to see Bale looking in her face.

“Day two’s off to a good start, yeah, sweetheart?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana has her first visitation and is initiated into her group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! You will note this chapter has two flashbacks, first featuring Geri, and they do not tell her full story. Upcoming chapters will have more flashbacks, often from multiple characters, but here we have our first entry into it!

“You’re lucky you have people coming to see you, yeah? So many of us have family that’s too far away to come.”

Cristiana nodded. It had been a week into her stay at the prison and they had to be the longest seven days of her life. She’d spoken to her mother on the phone earlier in the week, but it didn’t sound like there was any improvements on her case. Now she was coming, and for some reason, Cristiana felt nervous about seeing her. Cristiana couldn’t understand this about herself. Her mother was her favourite person, the person who had stood by her through all this, and yet there was something awful about letting her see her in this state. 

“At least you have a blue thing now, doesn’t that make you happy?” Jamie was deep in thought, a sudoku book on her lap. Jamie was odd in that she did seem to absorb and bring up what Cristiana had told her, yet couldn’t seem to care less about what Cristiana tried to ask her in the moment. Even now, she was nonchalant, her feet dangling off the edge of the bed while she chewed the end of her pencil. 

“Nobody ever comes to see me. That’s okay though.” Jamie went quiet again and Cristiana gauged that the conversation was probably over. That seemed to be the way with her. She’d learn little things and then feel like she had to shut up. She knew Jamie was Colombian and had enjoyed swimming a lot before coming to prison, and that she really seemed to be a turned inwards book-reading sort, although she would screech and swear and be harsh with the rest of the ladies when needed. She’d also learned that Bale and Ramos shared a room, which made a lot of sense given what they were like around each other, and that Ramos had taught Bale Spanish, but little more about either of them. Oddly enough, although she’d never met Aguero, she had gleaned the most about her. She talked endlessly and loudly to her roommate, the middle aged woman Cristiana had identified as named Fonte, who tiredly let her yap. In between random things she’d done in the day with Little General Messi, she talked and talked about a comic. It had only been a week and she already talked so much about the comic that Cristiana felt she had a very good idea about the characters and plot, although it was a comic she’d never heard of. It was endless and frustrating and Cristiana was becoming acutely aware that Fonte must have become very good at tuning it out. They all must have. Jamie didn’t blink an eye at it. 

“Better go, people like going and looking out the window and waving, it’s a fun little thing, yeah? Go.”

Cristiana nodded wordlessly and got up, wondering if Jamie just wanted her out of her space or if she was being honest. Cristiana’s hair and makeup wasn’t amazing, but at least she’d managed to get ahold of a little bit of product, enough to make her not feel like a rotten sack. It wasn’t nearly at the level of Bartra, but it would do for now. She wouldn’t have been able to bear it if her mother saw her so carelessly put together. It would make her worry. 

Jamie was right, though. There were a group of ladies crowding around the window, pushing and shoving just a little to get a turn to watch before a guard would bark for them to stop. Pique was pushed up against the window on the edge, looking particularly pleased when she saw the visitors start showing up, but quiet. Ramos was waving with the rest, and Cristiana also managed to spot Pepa and Carvajal and Mama Marcelo, but very few else of the faces she recognized. Cristiana hung back a bit, not wanting to join the scuffle. It seemed strange and weirdly childish to wave out the window, but so be it. The ladies finished their silly little waving and began to rush down to the visiting space, and Cristiana continued to feel awkward. It was hard explaining why she felt this way. She’d done alright for herself, kept her head down and muddled through the first week mostly painlessly. Yet there was still something so embarrassing feeling about all this. That sense had to fade, it simply had to. 

Cristiana picked up the pattern of what occurred when visitors were let in. After they were checked for contraband, they were instructed to give a hug at the beginning of the visit and at the end if they wished, but for no other physical contact. Pique was the first to greet her guests, a small and very beautiful woman with masses of curly blonde hair, and she made a big showy spectacle of giving her a big movie star kiss and hug, and her own mum, who got the same treatment but in a far less dramatic and romantic way. Cristiana felt startled Pique was with someone so lovely looking, or with someone at all, but was immediately sidetracked when she saw Ramos pick up a little boy of about four and give him a kiss, before going over with the little boy and her other guest to a table in the corner. Cristiana probably could have people-watched the whole time, but then her own mother came into view and she felt herself breaking into a grin that surprised herself some, given how anxious she’d felt even moments earlier.

“My baby.” Cristiana’s mother fell into the hug, nearly in tears, and Cristiana felt her eyes going wet too. 

“Yes, mama? Are you okay? Have you been well?” Cristiana finally let go of the hug and sat down with her mother, wiping the edge of her eye carefully.

“It has been an emotional week. I spoke with Mr. Diaz but he hasn’t heard back from the appeals board. We’re still waiting. Has it been too awful?”

Cristiana mulled this question over. The ladies she was around were alright to her, some were even kind. In general, it was awful, with the clothes and the food and the guards and the bathrooms, but she imagined she could be having a much worse time if she’d angered anyone. She was lucky that everyone treated her fairly gently so far, and told her which ladies wouldn’t be so gentle. 

“It has not been too fun, but I am surviving. There are some kind ladies here, I promise. I have not been beat up or initiated into a gang.” A little bit of a lie. She figured whatever Ramos’ group was, was probably a bit of a gang. 

“Please be careful who you make friends with, baby. You won’t be here for long, remember. I don’t want something happening to make you stay longer.”

Cristiana nodded. There was one sole prisoner that had mentioned what had landed her in jail, and it was Rakitic who offhandedly mentioned that she was here for her politics and protesting. Cristiana didn’t know in what capacity she had protested enough to land her in jail for any considerable length of time, but it seemed a tame crime. 

“I promise I won’t make a mess of things here, okay? Just keep my head down.”

“You are looking healthy, that’s good to see.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying not to freak out and just breathe through things. They’re supposed to give me a job soon. Something to do, right? Keep me busy. Right now I just don’t know how to fill my days.”

After that, the conversation smoothed out and Cristiana insisted on hearing all about home. The two hours went by too fast, way too fast, and Cristiana could hardly believe it when a guard announced that it was time to say goodbyes and give hugs. She felt like clinging to her mother and keeping her there, even though she kept insisting she’d be back next week and everything would be okay. Cristiana did start to properly cry when she gave that final wave before disappearing out the barred door back to the front desk. Embarrassing, shoulder-shaking loud crying, far worse than she was expecting. The guard at the door ignored her, obviously used to outbursts after visits. She felt an arm slip around her shoulder, and half expecting Mama Marcelo, almost screamed when she saw Pique staring out the barred window of the door too.

“It will never be long enough, but it gets you through each week.” Pique didn’t let go even when Cristiana squirmed a bit. “I’m Geraldine.”

She let go and Cristiana pulled herself away. Pique looked a little annoyed and Cristiana tried to weakly smile to offset insulting Pique a bit there. 

“I’m not an ogre, you know. I’m not the loveliest but I’m not an ogre.” Pique didn’t bother staying longer than that, heading down the hall to the bathrooms. Cristiana felt strange and uncomfortable, but shook it off. She’d finish her cry tonight. 

~

~Barcelona, seven years earlier~

“Let me guess, venti with two espresso shots, room for extra cream.”

“Trenta. Add two more shots.”

“You didn’t do another paper, missy.”

“I still have four hours, Shak, I can ride it out in here.” 

“You’re going to waste one of our tables for four hours and only buy one drink, tsk.” 

Geri laughed, leaning her elbows on the counter. This girl really was stunning. The way she’d shake her hips a little to the music while making drinks, the way she’d always take her bun out and then try to redo it on top of her head only to make it worse. Geri flirted all the time with her, really knowing nothing would come of it, but it was fun anyway and Shakira didn’t seem to mind all that much. Geri did hope she wasn’t being too annoying, because people probably flirted with her all the time, but Shakira always seemed happy to chat back. Happier than with most customers. It probably meant nothing to her, but it made Geri feel good. She wasn’t exactly the best at getting women, and it was frustrating knowing she was off-putting. It had been a difficult couple years, watching herself thunder in height until she was forced to shop in the men’s big and tall department, even her feet outgrowing any average size they had for women on the shelf. Maybe she could have worked the tallness if she had been more feminine, but she never had been and it was just a cruel twist of fate that she’d gone from just a dykey teenager to someone frequently confused for a man. She’d really been trying to grow her hair out recently to stop this, and it was down to just past her ears, but it was a huge annoyance and every day Geri just found herself scraping the front of it up into a little whale spout on top of her head. 

“Here you go, Geri, go, sit, right? Go do the paper, I don’t want me to be the reason you fail.” Shakira was holding out the cup of coffee. 

“Thank you, doll.” Geri brought her giant cup over and opened her laptop, focused. She’d done this before. She’d get the paper done, and not to brag, but it probably would be better than most of them. She actually spent a lot of time writing papers in the coffee shop. She knew some people didn’t like writing in a busy environment like that, but it was hard for Geri to do anything in complete silence. Not to mention there was the bonus of being around Shakira all the time. 

Geri picked up the cup to take a long sip, pulling up the review of seizure medications to analyze, when she noticed something on the cup. Shakira would sometimes write something silly on the side of the cup, or draw a little doodle, of a puppy or something. This time, it was just a phone number. 

A phone number, oh shit. Geri felt her eyes go round and her head jerk up to the bar. Shakira seemed to be waiting for a response, hovering by the till. Geri felt herself break out into a huge grin, and Shakira looked a little relieved. She pointed to the laptop and mouthed “Go work,” turning her attention to something that needed wiping down. She certainly would now, that was all the motivation she needed to be done with an hour to spare. 

~

“You know, Ronaldo, we haven’t initiated you properly into this group.” Ramos pushed her hair back and shoved it into a ponytail, putting on one of her headbands to keep the stray front hairs out. 

“No? I didn’t know this was like a frat house.” Cristiana knew she was being a little cocky, but it just made Ramos laugh a little. It was becoming clearer and clearer that Ramos was not nearly as serious as she seemed, she just liked a certain brand of humour, a kind of digging humour, but it was starting to become easier to talk to her. 

“What should we do with you, love?” 

“Oh, make her try and win over Enrique, that would be fucking hilarious.” Kroos’ particularly brand of humour was even harder to work with. She was harsh and spoke whatever was on her mind, unlike her silent German counterpart ter Stegen. Cristiana had to say, she didn't care for Kroos too much.

“That’s too mean, Toni, we have to ease the girl in.”

“Damn, are you getting soft, Ramos? I recall I had to steal right out of the kitchen, I got sent to fucking solitary after a week and a half here.”

“Haven’t I said I was sorry?” Ramos still looked pensive. “Oh, I have a good one. See, across the way there, you see Messi and her group?”

Cristiana nodded. They were playing cards and Pique seemed to be getting incensed with rage over losing. It was hard to say who was winning, but it was either Roberto or ter Stegen. Little General Messi was spreading some sort of sauce onto crackers with a plastic butter knife and was playing her hand coolly. Maybe she was the one really winning.

“See her little pot of dulce de leche there?”

“Yes.” Cristiana did not like where this was going.

“They sell it in the commissary but it’s expensive. It’s all Messi saves up for each week. She lives for the goop. Reckon you could get us a treat and take the rest of her pot.”

Cristiana felt uncomfortable. “I have some commissary money, why don’t I just buy us a pot?”

“Because how is that funny?” Ramos stared hard at Cristiana. 

“Um, I guess so.”

“Ramos is just a sadistic bitch, Ronaldo.” Kroos chucked a little ball of paper at Ramos. 

“Real funny, love, real funny.”

“Called favouritism. She didn’t make Gwen do shit.”

“Why would I make Gwen do shit?”

“See what I mean?”

Cristiana did laugh a bit at that. She knew it was probably a terrible idea to get involved with this, but Cristiana wanted to be liked. “Okay, I’ll try, I’ll try.”

~

~Barcelona, seven years earlier~

“Yes, yes, YES, Geri, fuck, fuck fuck!” Shakira’s nails dug into Geri’s back. It felt electrifying, and Geri thrust the strap-on in deeper. This had to take the prize for best first date ever. She had no idea how wildly well they would get on. It was supposed to be just an easy-going supper, but after talking and wasting time at the restaurant for hours, they’d gone to walk down by the beach, ended up making out all over each other on a bench, and had rushed back to Shakira’s place, both of them desperate to rip the other’s clothes off as soon as they were in the door. It made Geri feel good, very good, that obviously Shakira had been more attracted to her than she thought all along, even though she was big and muscular with a very small rack. Well, Shakira had small breasts too, but they were more in the cute, lovely way. 

Shakira reached down to touch herself a little, her body tense and obviously close to the edge. Geri brushed her hand away and did it herself, wanting to give Shakira the best experience she could. Geri had yet to come yet, but it didn’t matter right now. What mattered was making sure Shakira knew how much she mattered and how happy Geri was to be with her in this moment. It felt so good when Shakira did give in, crying out and shaking a little as she dragged her fingers up Geri’s spine and neck and into her hair, making her shiver.

“I’m okay now, Geri, I’m okay.” Shakira relaxed her thighs as Geri pulled the strap-on out, wanting it off her altogether so she could get to her own ignored clit. She hadn’t even gotten to the point of reaching down to undo it when Shakira did it herself, reaching down to rub Geri in slow circles. This she could get behind, and Geri melted into the bed. 

“Did you want to spend the night? I understand if you have too much school or whatever.”

“No, it’s okay, I should call my mum and let her know why I won’t be home, though.”

“You’re nearly twenty-two, you have a curfew?” 

“No, but it’s polite to let her know things when I’m living under her roof. I’ll call in a bit.” Geri leaned in and gave Shakira a few little kisses while she continued to rub.

“So, this is your last semester, then?”

“Of the pre-med portion. I have a long way to go yet.”

“You sound like you’ve breezed through this far. I can’t believe this, I went on a date with a future doctor.”

Geri laughed, arching her back a bit when Shakira hit a sweet spot. It was nice that she didn’t seem to mind how hairy Geri was down there, because she never bothered cleaning it up. Shakira seemed to wax or shave, but that was okay, Geri wouldn’t have minded a lick if she did or didn’t. 

“And kids too, you have such patience. I don’t think I could ever crack the average kid’s brain, let along do it as a living.”

“Pediatric neurologists are in huge demand. Anyway, I’m lazy, could probably get mum to just hire me when everything is well and done. Shit, baby, can you do it right there?” Geri opened her legs a little wider to give Shakira a better angle. 

“Nicknames already, you do move fast.” Shakira obliged.

“I know, I know, is that weird? I can stop.”

“It’s just your way. I can already tell.” Shakira leaned in and gave Geri a kiss, a long, sweet one. They’d already been sloppy kissing all over the place, but this one was different. One to hold as truly a first kiss. 

~

Cristiana was on edge. She was milling around the bedrooms, but there was always people going in and out of them. Jamie had shown her which of the rooms was Little General Messi’s, and she guessed the pot of dulce de leche would likely be somewhere in fairly plain sight. There likely would be no need to hide it, she’d been told. She wielded such power amongst the prisoners that nobody would dare touch something of hers, let alone some half used toast spread. 

Ter Stegen was on the floor of her room doing push-ups by herself, and she was the main problem. People were moving at such a pace that she could probably leap up and rush to the room quickly and find it, but not if ter Stegen wasn’t leaving. Maybe this was stupid. Maybe she didn’t need to be a part of Ramos’ group. She could get by with just talking to people during meals and maybe Jamie sometimes at night. 

“You doing alright? Something wrong? Cristiana, yes?”

Cristiana turned to see Mama Marcelo. 

“I’m…I’m fine.”

Mama Marcelo waited. She seemed to sense that wasn’t just everything. 

“I’m…how do you deal with the politics of everyone? Every little thing you have to do to keep on the right people’s side?”

“I say don’t. Nobody is more important than yourself. It doesn’t hurt to make friends, Cristiana, but make them the right way.” 

Cristiana nodded, mulling this over. “Thank you. I’m okay, really, I promise.”

“You let me know if anyone is bothering you, alright, chicky?”

“Nobody is, I promise.”

Mama Marcelo didn’t look entirely convinced, but smiled anyway and left Cristiana to her stewing. Maybe it was better to just walk away from all this keep her head down and not connect with these unsavoury people. That was better, that was the right option.

The dinner bell went off and ter Stegen got up, dusting her hands off on her pants and silently passing by Cristiana without so much as a nod. Cristiana noticed the last guard fail to notice someone still in the room and leave too, probably to supervise another raucous supper. Against her better judgment, Cristiana flung herself over to Little General Messi’s room, eyes rapidly scanning across all of the items on her shelf. There was the sauce, next to her little hotplate. Cristiana nearly chucked it under her own bed when she booked it back to her room with it, but decided that would be too lumpy and put it on her lower shelf so it wouldn’t be in plain view. It was strange to say it, but that had been utterly invigorating. She opened the pot a little bit and dipper her finger in. It was quite good. Even better tasting than if she’d bought it. Now she’d be friends with everyone and all would be well. She knew Mama Marcelo meant well, but maybe this was the right way she was meant to make friends


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bale gives Cristiana an offer.

Leo felt like tearing her hair out. She’d already torn up her room and was risking getting in trouble with what state it was in, but she was going mad. She had left the pot of dulce de leche where she always did. She remembered it was sticky around the edge and some of it had gotten on the shelf a bit. The little sticky spot was there still, yet to be wiped. She could start looking on her roommate’s side, but why would Alves take it? She didn’t know if Alves even liked the stuff. Someone had taken it, that had to be it. Who would even risk that, though? 

“Inmate.”

Leo jerked her head up, perfectly aware of her furious expression. It was just Roccuzzo. She was looking at Leo with some surprise. 

“Don’t worry, I’m going to put this all back together.” Leo straightened up and wiped her mouth, aware that some spittle in anger had collected in the corners of her lips. 

“I know you will. I just wanted to know what the fuss was.”

“Nothing.” Leo liked Roccuzzo a lot but she was still just a guard and didn’t need to know anything about her life. Roccuzzo was the type that wanted to learn about the inmates, about their lives, but Leo would have none of that. She knew very few inmates were even aware of what she had done to land herself in here, except for Geri and Kun, to her knowledge. It was too embarrassing for her to even think about. 

Roccuzzo didn’t look too impressed, as there clearly was a fuss. She wouldn’t push it, though. 

“Make sure it gets cleaned up now, Messi, or I’ll have to write you up.”

“I will, but you wouldn’t.”

Roccuzzo turned back and cracked a smile, before heading off on her rounds again. Leo took a minute and sat on her bed, unable to comprehend the temper she felt in her. Like she needed to go outside for awhile and de-stress with a football against the fence. She did that more than she liked to admit. She’d get the room done first, though. She couldn’t just leave it torn up in total disrepair. Leo picked up a pair of nail clippers off the floor and cursed to herself for inflicting this mess on herself. 

“Hey, Leo, geez, what happened?” It was Kun. She’d come and help, like always. She and Neymar were like her puppies and she loved it. 

“My dulce de leche is gone, I think somebody took it.” Leo focused on keeping moving and busy while Kun parked herself on Alves’ bed. 

“What a fucker. I mean, whoever it was. So I was thinking about ways to tweak the book, right, and I thought Chica Mágica would totally be memorable even to Americans.”

“Yeah, but that’s not her name, it wouldn’t make sense, I think. Like, Spider-Man, and stuff, that’s what the comics are called, right?” Leo didn’t mind talking about Kun’s comic with her. It was her baby and Leo knew there were some things in life she treated the same. The entire manuscript for it was sitting in the impound with her street clothes, as Kun had been too fearful that if it wasn’t with her, even if it was only in spirit, it would get destroyed, or dare she say worse, published without permission. Now, with so much time to kill, she kept drawing on scraps everywhere claiming they’d be pieces to add to it. 

“I’ll think about it, okay? I’ve been busy, I wanted to drop off little pictures for all the new girls, I drew one for Maradona too, he was watching me do some of the girls and he said he wanted one.”

Leo raised her head from her cleaning the floor. 

“Really, bubba? That’s a bit strange, is it not?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“As long as you’re sure.” Leo certainly wasn’t. It seemed like the guy was probably flirting, which was creepy. She appreciated a reserved friendly nosiness like Roccuzzo, but trying to forge any friendship was inappropriate. It was difficult to gauge Kun’s sense sometimes. She was a smart girl, but she always seemed to trust the wrong people, and it got her into fucking trouble. 

“Do you think it was someone from Ramos’ group that took it? I have some money, I can buy you a new pot, okay?”

“No, no, don’t do that, it will throw off my schedule of using it. I’ll go without, don’t waste your money.” Leo considered whether it might be someone from Ramos’ group or not. It wouldn’t be Ramos herself—she wasn’t that petty, as their leader. It wouldn’t be harmless Bale, and likely not Rodriguez. But she supposed it could have been anyone else. 

“Maybe someone will know, right? I can ask around, don’t worry.”

Leo nodded, still feeling frustration. “I’m going to go outside and play around a bit.” She knew she should probably invite more people to play football with her, but they could never keep up with her and it didn’t make it very fun. 

~

~Rosario, Argentina, 17 years earlier~

“LEONA! COME INSIDE BEFORE YOU GIVE YOURSELF A HEADACHE!”

“IN A MINUTE, MAMA!” Leo was going on sixty-three head bumps of her football and it was her best streak yet. It was because nobody was there to pester her like normal, her brothers off at a day camp and her sister at a friend’s. She could really try and beat all her records, even if she was the only one to know it. 

“LEONA. NOW.”

Mama sounded more upset than usual but the ball was still somehow going. Leo decided God must be telling her to keep going or He would make the ball fall off and ignored Mama. She marched over anyway, stomping over and snapping all the branches on the ground left over from her last jousting war with her brothers, and snatched the ball away.

“Inside, Leona, I’ve been trying to talk to you.” 

Leo scowled. Mama had been in a bad mood all day and she had been hiding outside for that very reason. 

“Don’t give me that, Leona.” Mama suddenly looked less angry and a little sad. It was fleeting though, and she frowned again. “I have to talk to you, with Papa, okay?”

Leona considered what she might have done that might warrant a serious talking to. She didn’t think her brothers would have told on anything. And usually Papa didn’t get involved with any punishment. This was very worrying, and Leo chewed a nail as she was led inside to the living room. Papa didn’t look angry like Mama did, just a little vacant and thoughtful. Leo wanted to go crawl in his lap, but instead sat where she was told.

“Leona, remember when we went to the doctor’s awhile back for your checkup?” 

Leo nodded. She hadn’t been happy about it. It had been normal, they’d taken her height and weight on the funny scale and poked around at her mouth and ears. They’d also taken her in and poked her with a needle which they said was normal, although over the next couple weeks they said they had to give her the needle a few more times. She’d asked if she was sick, because she felt very well, and Mama had promised no and the doctors wanted to see her blood but couldn’t get a clear reading. Now she wasn’t so sure, and felt afraid. Leo kicked her legs at the coffee table a bit. Usually, her mother would tell her off, but not this time. 

“Leona, the doctors think that you have something that makes you very small.”

Leo felt confused. She knew she was small, but she was only ten. She supposed she was the smallest in her class, and her brothers always called her a runt, but she’d just dealt with it. She was small, it was nothing new. 

“You won’t get very big, the hormones, the part of you that helps you grow tall, don’t work very well.”

That was more concerning. Leo tried to focus on kicking the coffee table more. 

“Leona, are you listening?”

Leo nodded, still not looking up. 

“Dr. Gomez said there was treatments to make you taller. They cost a lot of money and it will be a lot of needles, but me and Papa have talked a lot, and we want to try.”

That made Leo felt guilty, in a strange way. She didn’t want to cost a lot of money. She felt funny, like she didn’t know how she was supposed to feel about being tinier than everyone she knew for life. 

“How do they know I couldn’t get bigger?” Leo clung to the couch a bit. 

“Papa and I have been marking your height on the wall for a long time with your brothers and sister, we showed the doctor. Then they had to see your blood many times to see if the hormone was working.”

“Oh.” Leo felt strangely betrayed. 

Mama came over to give her a hug, and Leo fell into it. She didn’t feel sad, or even worried. She just felt funny. 

~

“Shouldn’t they be placing me in a job soon?” Cristiana took a fingerful of dulce de leche and handed the pot over to Bale, who took a similar helping and put it down on the grass between them. It was a bold move, having it between them, but it could be easily shoved away in a coat pocket. They’d figured it would be safer eating it outside, but Little General Messi had stalked outside and started kicking a dirty football against the fence over and over, working to hit the two poles on either side each time. Cristiana and Bale had scuttled underneath a tree instead and watched her from a distance, but it didn’t seem to matter at the moment. Messi was full of focus, and Cristiana had to say, she was impressed. Her aim was impeccable and she’d hit the poles every time. 

“They will. You think this place gives a shit, Ronaldo? They’re backed up on everything. If you want, try to make a plug to be in electronics, that’s where me and Ramos are, although so is Pique.”

Cristiana nodded. It was a nice offer, although she didn’t really want to be dealing with fixing electronic things. She wondered what other jobs there were, other than kitchen, which she saw other ladies doing. 

“I still can’t believe you actually took it so cleanly, Ronaldo. I’m impressed.”

Cristiana had received many accolades for the theft and it had made her feel very good. She knew that probably wasn’t a good thing but she didn’t feel terribly guilty. Little General Messi seemed like a bitch. She just made careful that neither her nor Bale mentioned it at the breakfast table the next morning in front of Rakitic and ter Stegen, and it had all been easy. 

“Why did Ramos say she’d never make you do anything?”

Bale laughed a bit. “I’m twenty-one, Ronaldo. I was nineteen when I was admitted. I mean, she’s got like what, eight years on me? But I think that was enough for her to want to mother me. I mean, she’s not getting to mother her kid and that felt pretty raw, and she needed someone to replace that. I was in pretty rough shape in need of a mother when I got in here too.”

Cristiana nodded again. That made a lot of sense, actually. She figured there was probably still a lot to that story, but the base of it made more sense. They cuddled in a family way, not a romantic one. She also wasn’t aware Bale was quite so young. She knew she was pretty young, but she was practically still a baby. The mystery deepened, but Cristiana kept that thought to herself. 

“You know, Ronaldo, I know she’s rough sometimes but don’t worry, she softens.” Bale stuck the pot into her pocket when Aguero trotted outside to go speak to Little General Messi. “But she likes you, I think. And if there’s any way I can make it easier for you until everyone adjusts, let me know.”

Cristiana had no idea what that offer meant. It sounded nice but kind of dodgy. 

“Hm?”

“Like anything you need.” Bale turned and stared meaningfully at Cristiana, who was starting to get it, despite not wanting to. 

“I’m not sure I— “

“If you’re ever lonely and have any,” Bale was still being polite about this, choosing her words carefully, “Urges, let me know. I know you haven’t been here long but you can go a little crazy without…contact.”

Cristiana was taken aback. “Are you bartering sex with me?”

“Not bartering. Just offering. I’ve got to go now, Ronaldo, alright? I’ve got electric from two until four today.” Before Cristiana could say anything more and possibly hurt her feelings, Bale took the pot of dulce de leche out of her pocket and handed it back, before sauntering off across the field. 

~

Nearly two in the morning. Fuck. Cristiana tossed and turned, furious with herself for not being able to fall asleep when she knew how early she had to wake up. She’d been fitful all day, really, after what Bale had mentioned. Supper had been an awkward affair, at least for Cristiana. Bale didn’t seem any different, making fun of the food and being her regular self to Rakitic and ter Stegen. Cristiana knew she was fucking up, and yet she somehow couldn’t help it. She’d stumbled over all her responses and had eaten as fast as possible to get out of there, hiding back in the bedroom until Jamie had finally come back for the night. Jamie had paid no mind to Cristiana past a hello and had played a crossword puzzle until lights out, leaving Cristiana with her thoughts. 

It had been a long time since she’d had any sex. Cristiana had a lot of men fawning over her, especially at the gym, but she always had a lot of trouble actually connecting with any, and she turned a lot of them off once she went on a date with them, it seemed. Probably because she didn’t like fucking right away, she realized. She knew that the way she presented herself probably gave off whore vibes to men, but she just liked feeling beautiful, which she didn’t think was a crime, but at the end of the day, it meant a lot of dudes would walk when they realized they weren’t getting an easy lay. 

But really, she’d thought a lot about Bale’s offer too. She’d never been in any sexual contact with a woman, but she hadn’t really thought about it. She’d never thought to pay attention to women because she’d always assumed she’d never need to. Even with all the naked women in her face in the showers, she just hadn’t thought about it. Cristiana tried picturing Bale’s naked front that she’d seen in the locker room. She was slender and fit with perky smaller breasts. It was an attractive build for a woman, aesthetically. Cristiana wondered how she’d feel if she touched herself and thought of Bale, whether she’d feel turned on or not. Everybody had to be asleep now and it was dark, nobody would notice if she just swung her legs open and tried. 

Cristiana didn’t touch herself terribly often, and when she did she rarely brought herself to orgasm. It was always nice when she did, but it was harder than she expected usually. She didn’t expect too much out of this attempt, but it was worth a shot. Cristiana tried to take it easy and slow rubbing herself, knowing if she did it too hard nothing at all would come of it. She tried picturing just Bale’s body now that she was eased in. She wasn’t attracted to her face, and that would probably just put her off this whole thing, but just focusing on her chest was alright. Cristiana rubbed a little quicker. She tried imagining touching Bale’s chest and that was also good, but she was still plagued with bother over not being attracted to Bale’s face. It kept turning her off until she didn’t think about it again. Maybe a different face. To Cristiana’s puzzlement, her mind landed on Jamie’s face. It was a very lovely face, but Cristiana felt overwhelmed with why she’d even thought of her. 

“Having a good one, Ronaldo?”

Cristiana snapped her legs shut and took her hand out of her bottoms. Jamie was turned to her side, still lying in bed, and even in the dark, Cristiana could see she was smirking something terrible. 

“I…I’m…”

“Was worth a shot. Nothing’s private in these rooms. Try the showers, no one will bat an eye.”

“I didn’t…”

“What were ‘ya thinking about that had you all excited?”

Cristiana felt like setting herself on fire. “Nothing, nothing.”

Jamie turned back over. “Suit yourself.”

~

Kun looked over the drawing critically. It wasn’t her best work, but it was just a quick doodle. Drawing Valentina Rabia, her title character, came easy, but she’d done this up in about ten minutes. She thought the new guard that took such interest in her work the first time might enjoy hearing about her book, and wanted to give an example. She folded the paper into her pocket and wandered down the hall, wondering where he may have ended up. 

He was pretending not to watch TV while definitely watching TV over in the den. Lots of guards did this, it was an easy place to scope them out. 

“Oh, hello, inmate.” Maradona straightened up and smiled at Kun. He seemed like a nice guy, too soft for this sort of job. 

Kun was never a shy person, and came right over. “I brought you another picture. This is Valentina Rabia, she’s the main character of the graphic novel I mentioned.”

“Oh, yes?” Maradona took the picture and studied it. “I don’t know much about this art style but you seem very talented, really. What does she do?”

“She can control fire, at the moment, although who knows, she might have more tricks up her sleeve.”

“And you’ve written the whole thing?”

Kun nodded. “I kept really busy with it before. I’ll admit, my inspiration came from Avatar, you know The Last Airbender and stuff? Not the blue cat people.” 

“I think I’ve heard of it. Is it for kids?”

“I guess so. I know a lot of adults like it too.” Kun wasn’t ashamed of loving it. 

Maradona smiled. “You’re very interesting, inmate. I’d love to hear more about it, when we’ve got time. We could meet up somewhere more private and discuss the book in more detail.”

“You’re being silly, calling me inmate.”

“What is your first name? Let me see if I can remember off the roster, ummm, Sabina, yes?”

“It is, but I go by Kun. Another old anime thing.”

“Okay, now THAT I have to hear more about.”

Kun laughed. Maradona seemed like a really lovely man, better than most she’d experienced. She didn’t know what Leo was talking about.

~

“Bale?” Cristiana peeked nervously around the corner of the bathrooms, where she knew Bale was plucking her eyebrows, full of focus. She’d stayed up practically all night fretting, but also feeling an increasing frustration that she hadn’t finished what she’d started. She didn’t really know if a woman would do it for her, but at this point, now she felt like she had to know and Bale had put that offer out there. Bale was a sweet girl and Cristiana felt sure she’d try to make her comfortable.

“Yeah, Ronaldo?”

“You know what we were talking about yesterday?”

“Mmhmm?” Bale took hold of a hair and ripped. Cristiana preferred to get hers shaped by professionals but that was a lost cause. Maybe she could somehow ask Bartra how she did hers if she ever worked up the nerve.

“I…I wouldn’t mind having a go at it,” Cristiana swallowed. “I’ve never been with a woman.”

Bale laughed a bit, but not in a judgmental way. “Okay, cool, Ronaldo. That’s okay. Let’s just fool around some, yeah?”

Cristiana nodded dumbly. “I don’t…I don’t really need a prison girlfriend or anything, right? This is just fun?”

Bale laughed loudly, throwing her head back. “Prison girlfriend, I’m dying. No, it’s just for fun. A one-off if you want.” Bale put her tweezers away and took Cristiana’s hand, leading her out of the bathroom and down the hall all the way to the little church service space down at the end of the prison. 

“The church, Bale?” Cristiana felt her skin crawl. She loved God, this seemed the worst place ever to do this. 

“This is the quietest place in the prison, Ronaldo. We can try somewhere else but we might get caught, okay?”

Cristiana tried to push away her fears. She was already this far, she didn’t want to embarrass this whole situation by bombing out now. That would leave them both frustrated. “Okay, let’s do this here.”

Bale took hold of Cristiana’s shoulders and gave her a couple kisses, guiding her past the pews and alter to behind the big organ. It was hurried and it gave Cristiana a bit of a rush, a rush of such a massive unknown. Bale pulled Cristiana’s pants down once they were behind the organ, and was about to pull down her underwear when she got an impish glimmer in her eye. 

“You wanna lie down? Let me do something for you.” 

Cristiana obediently lay down and let Bale finish stripping off her bottom half, tipping her head up to watch as Bale got down on her tummy. Fuck. Bale was going to eat her out. Never had she asked a boyfriend to do it, but they’d also never offered. Because they never had, Cristiana had always felt too ashamed of her urge to try it. She laid her head back down, which Bale took as approval before going right for her clit and teasing it with her tongue. Cristiana gasped at the feeling, something her finger could never accomplish. Her hands fluttered to Bale’s messy head, making Bale give it a long slow suck instead. 

“Oh, oh, yes, mmmmm,” Cristiana made a few more muffled noises, trying not to draw any attention to them even in their seclusion. She clawed a little at Bale’s scalp before tugging it out of the bun and tossing the hair tie aside to put her hand in Bale’s hair. It was a lot of hair, such long natural hair, even if it wasn’t the thickest or nicest texture. Cristiana wished hers grew so long. Bale cocked her head up at this and raised an eyebrow, before silently laughing and shaking her head and continuing her task. 

Bale moved a little lower, and it felt lovely, it really did, to get the full experience, but Cristiana was dying for Bale to go back up to the clit. The sensation was so much more powerful than she was expecting. She liked it this way too, being eaten out on her back. As much as Bale was a sweety, Cristiana could lean back and fantasize this was anyone. But she really did appreciate this. 

She finally went back to the sweet spot and Cristiana yelped, the leap in sensation bringing her close. God, she would love to come. Cristiana stayed very focused and gently held Bale’s head in place to see if she’d get the idea to stay there, which she did. It wasn’t too long after that, that the waves of pleasure started up Cristiana’s thighs and shook her up her body until she was begging enough. Bale pulled her mouth away and wiped it with her sleeve, her hair drooping into her face. It made her nearly unrecognizable. 

“You alright there, Ronaldo?”

“Mmmmmmm, really good.” Cristiana let some deep breaths go, unable to move for the moment. 

Bale laughed and took another hair tie off her wrist, twisting her hair back up into its bun, then offering her hand to Cristiana. “Let me help you, there.” 

Cristiana accepted and let Bale pull her up to sitting. “I’ve never done that before with anyone.”

“Aren’t I lucky then.”

“I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to wax or shave in so long.”

“Oh, Ronaldo, it looked like you had less than a week’s worth of little hairs there, that’s nothing. It doesn’t matter anyway, I don’t care who keeps what hair where.”

Cristiana nodded. “Thank you, though, you’re right, I needed it."

Bale thumped her shoulder a bit. “No problem. Maybe if one day I need it we can hang out alone.”

Cristiana got up, shaky on her legs and in need of cleaning herself up. “Hey, Bale? I don’t know when you exchange first names with people in here but it’s okay if you want to call me Cris.”

“Gwen.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana receives her job.

Maria chewed a little bit at the end of her sleeve, mulling over her thoughts. It dawned on her slightly that that was a bit gross, and dropped her hand to her lap. It wasn’t an action she’d done for a very long time, since she was small, but sometimes those little remnants of her childhood would just pop up when she would least expect it. 

She was quite certain that the new girl Ronaldo had taken Leo’s dulce de leche, and it was making her feel terribly guilty. Maria had always prided herself on her laser-sharp reflexes, and she had seen movement behind her days back after she’d left while Ronaldo had paced round and round the bedrooms. A change in Ronaldo’s pace, a jerk. She hadn’t turned her head around, but maybe she should have. Leo had been in a terrible mood in general since the incident, and maybe it was better if she knew. 

Maybe not though. Leo liked retribution. Maria didn’t particularly feel like causing a fight with the new girl. Maria simply didn’t cause fights. She wondered what compelled people in here to do shit like that, though. She’d drifted through the first four years of her sentence without squabbling with anybody, but then, nearly everyone left her alone. It hadn’t been until last year when Ivana had appeared and taken a shine to her that she’d been given a group of friends, friends she hadn’t really asked for but there they were, nonetheless. It was interesting, knowing she’d outlast most people in this prison. It was low-security and as such, most of the girls didn’t have sentences much past six years, generally. Most a lot less. She’d counted, and she was certain that everyone she knew would be gone before she was done the remaining six years she had left. Maybe that wasn’t so bad, though. She’d been alone before Ivana and she’d be fine alone after. It was easy to just hide away, safe from everyone and the world, in prison, really. In fact, so far it had been the safest place she’d ever been and there was a weird comfort to that. 

“You’re quieter than usual.” 

A stupid statement, especially from Ivana, who had been watching Maria the whole time during lunch. Maria was perfectly aware of how quiet she was at all times. Maybe this was a different quiet and Ivana was picking up on it. She did that a lot. 

“I’m okay.” Maria didn’t feel the need to expand further. Ivana could figure it out or ask more questions. She was the only one that Maria had shared any details of her prison sentence or her life with, but even then, it wasn’t a lot because it wasn’t anybody’s business. Maybe it would be Ivana’s business over time, but it wasn’t right now. 

~

~Outside Mönchengladbach, 15 years earlier~

“Jean, I’m tired, I don’t want to walk anymore.” Maria stumbled a bit over a branch. Jean-Marcel had insisted they go for a walk up into the mountains past the house, but the hike was dragging on and on and he wasn’t stopping. She hated when her brother was like this. Always had some idea in his head. As soon as he’d started gymnasium he’d become insufferable and full of ideas, like he was finally a big kid and she was little and stupid. She also hated how much he left, off with his friends every day well into the evening. It left her alone at night. The worst thing in the world. 

So a long hike was better than nothing, but she still wasn’t happy. She was growing grumpy and belligerent and tired and sat down on the ground instead, hoping that would at least give her a break from the hike before they kept going. 

“Aw, come on, Maria, just a bit further. There’s the best area coming up.”

“I’m tired, Jean, I said I was tired, it’s all just trees anyway, why is it better?”

“You’re getting too big for me to piggy-back you, but I promise it’s cool.”

“I’m not too big.”

“Too big for me to carry you. Get up, come on.”

Maria sulked and got up. Typical bossy brother. She did follow along still, though, and at least he wasn’t lying. It wasn’t too far away. It was a clear area around the trees with some logs stacked precariously on top of one another in the centre to make a strange, short wall. 

“What do you think, eh, Maria?”

Maria blinked. 

“Here, look, it doesn’t make sense now, but watch.” Jean took his backpack off and opened it, removing a stack of empty soup cans. “We put them here like this.” 

He continued, setting them up carefully on top of the log before looking back at her, pleased with himself.

“Oh, it’s so stupid, Jean, I wanna leave the hill.”

“No, look.” Jean reached into his backpack again, this time pulling out his little pistol. Maria was startled. She knew Jean had one for when he was messing about and hunting small game with his friends, but she’d never been allowed to go with them.

“Are you going to shoot them all off?” This was more interesting and Maria came closer. 

“I’m going to teach you how to shoot it.”

Maria bubbled with pride. Jean never wanted to teach her things. He stood there, pensively loading the pistol, taking his time. 

“Okay, okay, let’s do it.”

Jean kept fiddling. “I was just thinking, Maria. You’ve been kind of a livewire at home recently, not listening, being mean to dad. I thought maybe I could help you blow off some steam, right? Let me shoot the first couple, let me show you how to do it, okay, Maria? It’s quite hard.”

Maria felt insulted, the feeling of pride falling away. She wasn’t trying to be bad. Home was so terrible, just so very terrible, but Jean didn’t seem to see it. She didn’t need to blow off any steam. He didn’t notice, anyway, and went about showing her how to grip it correctly, still not shooting. He talked about boring things like lining your feet up and how to stare down the right way, then finally shot one. It dinged the side of the can then sputtered off. 

“You’re not very good.”

“It’s hard, I said it was hard, here, come here, Maria.” Jean helped her line her feet up and stuck his sunglasses over her eyes. “Careful, it blows back so hold it really hard with both hands. I’m going to hold your sides, okay?”

“Okay, okay, can I go?”

“Try it.”

Maria stared as hard as she could the way Jean had told her, channelling all her mental energy into the can metres ahead of her. It wouldn’t be too difficult to hit it. It just was all about being steady. 

There was a strange hush for a moment in Maria’s mind as the gun went off, even as the can cracked and made a clanging noise, falling off the log. A split second of peace, but the feeling came back for another split second when she saw the can was gone. She looked up, and Jean’s jaw had dropped open. 

“That had to be a fluke, Maria. Christ.”

“Let me do another, let me do another. Please, I liked that a lot.”

“See, I knew you would. Okay, we’ll try another. You got lucky.”

Maria ignored him and aimed the pistol up again. Another second of an empty, peaceful mind. And when she focused her eyes after the shot, another missing can.

~

“Ronaldo, could I see you in my office, please?” 

Cristiana turned. She knew she’d left lunch a little early, but no guard had stopped her at the time. She never liked staying the full time, because the food was always garbage, but she had been stopped and sent back once or twice. 

Instead, she just saw Zidane. Cristiana felt tense, unsure whether she was about to learn if Zidane or Enrique was to be her friend. She supposed this was the moment of truth, and followed him into his office. It was a boring, dry office with a few photos in picture frames on the desk, but Cristiana figured most of the girls could swipe something easily and it would be unwise to have personal sundries on the desk. 

“Is there something I’ve done?” Cristiana immediately thought of the dulce de leche. From all that she’d gleaned from prison, it was a terrible thing to be a snitch, but maybe somebody had.

“Oh, no, no, Ronaldo. I wanted to introduce myself properly, see how you’re settling in. Please sit down.”

Cristiana sat, her anxiety failing to truly settle.

“You seem to be fitting in exceedingly well with some of the inmates.”

“Yes, I don’t want to be miserable in here, you know? Although I hope I will be out quite quickly, of course. I shouldn’t be staying more than the next month or two once my lawyer really gets going.”

Zidane looked a bit tired at this comment. “Ronaldo…”

“I’m innocent, I should be let out.”

“Alright, well, at the very least, you’re a good girl, Ronaldo. I understand your urge to make friends, but I just want you to be careful.”

“Am I making friends with people I shouldn’t?”

“Just mind yourself, Ronaldo. We have everything from the smallest drug offense to murder serving in here and it’s hard to judge sometimes.”

“Oh.” Cristiana felt he was trying to tell her Ramos was not a good person, somehow. He hadn’t said it, but it really did sound like it. She didn’t think someone like Bale could ever be violent, but she didn’t know about Kroos, Carvajal, or Ramos. Or even Jamie, despite perceived mildness. 

“I do have some good news for you, though, Ronaldo.”

“Yes?” Cristiana refrained from chewing a fingernail. 

“We’ve selected a job position for you, to keep you busy. We’ve listened to your interests, looked at your level of education, and think you could be very useful. We have education programs for the inmates, and we think you would be a well-suited tutor. Particularly in English, if you prefer.”

“Oh. Um, yes, that sounds good.” Cristiana was surprised. She never terribly thought of herself as an intellectual. She had gone to university, but she’d wasted it all after on her personal training business, a far cry from academics. But, she guessed, few of the girls had gone to school like she had. She knew Pique had lots of education and that she worked in electronics, so she didn’t know why she got the privilege of teaching English. Maybe Zidane really did like her. 

~

Kun peeked behind her shoulder once more before scuttling to the furthest corner of the yard, past the rubbish bin and shed. Maradona said he’d be there at two for a chat, and she knew she was a bit early, but it was difficult to pull yourself away from a conversation with one of the other inmates if you got caught. It seemed silly to be sneaking around just for a conversation, but even that was too inappropriate for any guard and prisoner to engage in, which Kun thought was stupid. 

“Oh, good, there you are.” Maradona was already around the corner, which made Kun jump a bit. 

“Shit, I didn’t think you’d be here already. Scared me.”

“I guess I got a bit antsy.”

“Over what?” Kun leaned against the shed next to Maradona. 

“Getting caught sitting back here, really. I’d probably just say I was out for a smoke and get in shit for that, but I was hoping not to get caught at all.”

“No, I feel that. It’s kinda dumb, eh? I feel like I’d be judged for just trying to talk to you. But then, I guess most of the girls haven’t had the best experiences with guards.” Kun paused for a second so she didn’t sound quite so endless when she spoke. “Why did you want to become a prison guard?”

“Just the way life turns out sometimes, you know? I don’t think I would have seen this in my future, but the job was there, and I needed it, so I went into training. My family didn’t want me bumming off them anymore, I guess I did that for too long.”

Kun nodded. That wasn’t something she could really relate to, she’d always payed for everything in her life on her own, but she supposed some people were luckier. 

“So you’re, what, an illustrator? Is that what you did before you got in here?”

“Artist, author, I guess. It’s more than just an illustrator. I…I was never one professionally before this, but I was trying. I’m going to keep trying, after, I am. But maybe I’m just stupid, maybe the comic isn’t good enough. I’ve spent so long on it that maybe I’ve lost touch, nobody ever wanted to publish it.”

“Nobody wanted to publish Harry Potter.”

“Everyone tells me that.” Kun laughed a bit ruefully. 

“It’s true. I bet it’s really good. I did read a lot of comics as a kid, Superman and all that. I guess this is just like a different kind, eh?”

“Yeah, sorta. It’s like, I wish I could show you some real pages from it, I think it would have a way better effect. My girlfriend says she thinks it could sell, but maybe she’s just being nice to me. I’m afraid everyone is being too nice to me about it.”

“Messi is your girlfriend, yes?” Maradona asked without missing a beat. 

“Yeah, we’ve known each other forever.”

“Were you always girlfriends, then?”

“No, we hadn’t connected for awhile. Came as a shock to both of us, both being in here.”

Maradona seemed to approach the topic carefully, after staying quiet for awhile. “Are you a lesbian?”

“Erm, probably more that I’m bi.” Kun had no idea why she’d just told Maradona this, it really wasn’t his business, but there it was, out in the open. He simply nodded, staying quiet before changing the topic back to her art. Kun rather wished she’d kept her mouth shut.

~

Cristiana felt frustrated. Her one problem eyebrow just wasn’t doing what she wanted. The other one looked so nice and she really had to be ready soon. It was her first day on her new “job” and she didn’t want to look sloppy. She wasn’t sure if there were other teachers in the commons who were hired, or if it was other inmates helping out each other. Either way, she wanted to at least seem like she knew what she was doing. Trouble was, once something seemed to go bad, makeup wise, it was impossible to fix it for the day. Cristiana threw up her hands a bit and shoved the pencil away. That was definitely part of the problem. The eyebrow pencil from the commissary was rubbish. 

The learning commons was off from the small library, which Cristiana had been in, so at least it wasn’t hard to find. It was a bit of a drab room, with some larger round tables centred around some short bookcases that had textbooks in it. Everything looked sad and scrubby, but she was glad, in a way, that the prison had it at all. There was just one guard watching over what looked like two teachers unrelated to the prison, probably doctorate students looking for credits, Cristiana figured, with a couple inmates sitting with them. Cristiana noticed Roberto was one of the women, and she seemed to be focusing on a math workbook. She wondered if someone would notice her to tell her what to do, hanging anxiously around the door. 

One of the teachers looked up. “Are you hear for any classes, or?”

“I’m Cristiana Ronaldo, I’m here to help out with some English classes, or something else?”

“Oh, yeah, they did have you penned down for an English lesson. It’s not hard, just follow the book, use your English experience to help pronounce words.” The teacher got up and found a couple books, one for teachers, the other a workbook. “She’ll be in for her lesson probably any time. She’s only on lesson two,” the teacher paused and sounded annoyed. “Has been for awhile.”

Cristiana took the books and sat down, feeling uncomfortable at the total lack of training, especially if who she was teaching was going to be difficult. She tapped the pencil a bit against the table, hoping it would be better than she was expecting. The door opened, and to Cristiana’s dismay, Little General Messi slunk in and looked around, before going over to the teacher helping Roberto and quietly mumbling a question, absently rubbing and massaging a little spot on Roberto’s neck while she tried to do her math. The teacher pointed to Cristiana, because of course she did, and Little General Messi’s expression changed, in a way Cristiana couldn’t exactly gauge. She came over though without fussing, and sat down, taking the workbook out of Cristiana’s hands. 

“Are you ready? Come on.”

Cristiana tried to compose herself. “I’m Ronaldo, we can—“ 

“We both know who each other are, Ronaldo, good to meet you, yada yada. You know some English?” Little General Messi’s voice was quiet and she blurred the ends of all her words together. Cristiana didn’t know exactly what she was expecting, but it wasn’t such a fragile voice. 

Cristiana changed to English to prove she could. “Yes, I speak good English.”

Little General Messi stared at Cristiana for a moment then turned back to the workbook. “Better than Andres there, then. Okay, let’s go ahead then, help me.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun and Leo have a falling out.

“So then we were thinking about it, and he was right, Dr. Odio is a little bit of a stupid name, so we wanted to think about…”

Leo tuned out a bit, silently fuming. Kun had done nothing but talk about stupid Maradona all week, a man she now called Gino and was far, far too familiar with. Leo had been spending a lot more time with Neymar instead, letting Neymar cuddle up whenever she wanted and having a lot more sex with her, which had had an even worse effect than Leo was hoping. Instead of making Kun a little jealous that she was getting an unequal amount of attention, she’d breezed right by them to go visit Gino in their secret little space again, thinking Leo just wasn’t free to hang out. It was infuriating and Leo didn’t want to hear a word more about the stupid man. She knew Kun was allowed to make her own choices and she’d never mentioned liking Gino like she liked Leo, but it was still making her jealous, in a frustrated way. Kun had always been her girl here, always. Kun had seemed so short with her though, when she’d tried mentioning the few times that the relationship was creepy, so Leo didn’t bother anymore. She’d stay quiet and sulk like that was nothing new. 

“You’re not listening, Leo, I want your opinion on this.”

“I don’t really know, ummm, the name is fine?”

Kun stared at her. “I stopped talking about the name like three minutes ago. You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not ignoring you, I just wasn’t listening. There’s a difference.”

Leo had said stuff like this to Kun before, but this time, her face changed a bit, like she was hurt. 

“You’ve not been around all week, that’s okay, we’ve been busy, but why aren’t you listening now? We’ve barely seen each other.”

Leo spoke without thinking. “It’s not my fault we’ve barely seen each other.”

Kun looked more hurt, and a bit angry. “Why the hell do you hate him so bad? He’s not bad to us girls, he likes me, we’re friends. He won’t bother you either, you don’t have a fucking chip off your shoulder about him like you do some of the others.”

“I don’t hate him, Kun, I just don’t think it’s okay to be with him! What if you get caught visiting? It’s his job to watch over us.”

“Don’t fucking lie.” Kun’s voice stopped any wavering it was having. “You don’t like him at all. You know we’re not doing shit but you hate him because he’s somebody else that makes me happy a little in this place that isn’t you. And you love being what makes me happy, even if you go off and fuck Neymar, or ignore me, or get moody.”

Leo felt enraged. She knew her temper was as short as she was, even if it didn’t come out in flaming fists like Geri’s did. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m trying to watch out after you. That’s all I ever do in here, try to make sure you don’t make bad choices. All you fucking do is make bad choices, and he’s a bad choice.”

“So I’m just this stupid idiot who can’t take care of herself? It’s all I’ve ever done, try to do things for myself, unlike you. You get everyone around you to do them for you.”

“Fuck off!” Leo felt her voice raising, as it so rarely did. “I’m just trying to protect you!”

“Bullshit!” Kun got up, grabbing her drawing pad that was sitting on the table in front of them. “I’m not your fucking slave or lackey, you want someone to fuck you and make you feel like the queen of this fucking place, you have Neymar!”

“GO, then! Get out!” 

Kun stormed away, probably to the bedrooms, and Leo wanted to grab hold of something and snap it in half, a chair or preferably a security guard named Maradona, but she took Kun’s pencil sitting there forgotten and snapped it instead.

~

Cristiana held the little cartoon Aguero had drawn of her, looking critically at it. She looked cute, she supposed, but Aguero had drawn her standing next to a mirror, putting lipstick onto a big pouty mouth. Jamie’s had been her roundhouse kicking something, very badass, and apparently she’d made enough of an impression as a prissy bitch that this is what she got. 

Cristiana knew she’d been moody all week, even though nothing particularly bad had gone on. Life had kept turning as it seemed to in the prison, she’d wake up, go eat while Gwen and Rakitic gently bickered and ter Stegen stewed in silence, head off to try and teach hapless and frustrated women basic English grammar, then sit around lolling at the shitty and crackly TV all evening until bed. She’d finally had her period about four days ago too, something she’d not really thought about having to deal with in prison until it was finally something that happened. Jamie had looked very bored when Cristiana had hurriedly mumbled she needed tampons or something and had chucked a pile of big clunky pads at her and told her they were dirt cheap at the commissary and to pay her back later. It had been embarrassing to ask and embarrassing to deal with so far in prison, knowing everybody heard everything in the bathrooms and that Jamie now knew for sure when her cycles were. No matter how much she rationalized that probably a bunch of the ladies were also on their periods, it still bothered her. 

She’d also still not heard from the lawyers. Her mother had said they were still working on it, but she’d said that every week. She didn’t think her mother was lying, but she deeply felt they were lying to her instead. It’s like they weren’t even trying and Cristiana had felt shaken with the fact that at this rate, she would still be here longer than she thought. It had been eating at her a lot, she guessed. 

“What’s that?”

“Hm?” Cristiana turned to see Jamie peering over her shoulder at the picture. 

“Oh, your picture from Aguero. Why are you just standing in the middle of the bedroom staring at it?”

“I don’t know.” Cristiana put it down on her shelf. “Why did she draw you roundhouse kicking something?”

“Because she learned I knew judo. She just tries to make them match what she knows superficially about the person, what she thinks they like. Jesus, I can see your face, are you afraid she thinks you’re an airhead? She just thought you liked makeup.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you knew judo.”

“I’m like an orange belt, so not very good. She just got the idea in her head and went with it.”

Jamie seemed particularly talkative as she went over to her bed and tidied it a bit, and Cristiana felt herself speaking without really thinking.

“What did you do to get in here, Jamie?”

She stilled for a moment before sighing. “I just had a pussy full of coke across the border, right? I mean, like three times before they decided probation wasn’t doing shit.”

“Oh, um, I guess that makes sense.”

Jamie’s face changed to an angry one, which surprised Cristiana. “Why, because I’m Colombian?”

“Oh, um, no, no, that’s not what I—“ Cristiana really had sort of meant because Jamie was Colombian, but she was immediately seeing how stupid and tasteless it had been to say. 

“You know over half of us are serving drug sentences, right? Because the fucking system is against us. Target us, or target the users, because it’s so much easier to go after the drug trade then all the really fucked up shit going on like rapists and pedophiles and shit.”

“I didn’t…”

“You know the driver Roberto? She’s a fucking addict, she’s serving for possessing way more heroin then I ever could possibly have had on me, she’s white as hell. Just don’t assume, alright? Fuck.”

Cristiana felt horrible. She stopped trying to defend herself and flapped her hands by her side, hoping Jamie wouldn’t hate her forever. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m really sorry. I…I didn’t mean to be racist, but I was and that was wrong.”

Jamie cocked her head and rolled her eyes a bit. “Well, at least you knew you were.”

“I didn’t mean to be shitty.”

Jamie nodded. “I know. I just think you’ve been coddled, really. I don’t think you’re a shit person, Cristiana, I just think you’ve got work to do on getting over yourself in here and understanding the girls and where we all come from, y’know?”

“I’ll do better.” Cristiana paused, trying to properly say what she felt without sounding stupid. “I value that you help me out in here, I appreciate you.”

Jamie went and sat on her bed, patting for Cristiana to come sit next to her, which she dutifully did. She put her arm around Cristiana, rubbing and squeezing her arm and shoulder a bit. It was a strange, oddly soft action from her, and Cristiana felt herself leaning her head on Jamie. 

“We’ve all got work to do relearning stuff, right? It’s hard to know that we’re being a shit until it’s right in our faces that we are. But we can all change and I know you’re not a shit person, so you can.”

“Why are you being so nice to me after I wasn’t to you?” Cristiana felt like crying, a lot. Her body suddenly felt exhausted from this past week of feeling bad.

“I live with you, I see you squirreling away pad wrappers like it’s a big secret and fighting with your hair extensions and your eyebrows and writing letters to your mom and I know you’re just not fit for this place, no matter how much you seem to be superficially fitting in. But you’re trying, so I’m going to be gentle with you.”

Cristiana vowed she wasn’t going to cry, she cried enough already, in private and public. “Thank you.”

Jamie let go and picked up her book, and Cristiana knew the moment was over and stood up and went over to her bed. It was so hard to read Jamie, and even her admission of her crime really hadn’t opened any windows into Jamie’s psyche that Cristiana had been hoping for, but she did feel better, better than she was expecting.

~

~Rosario, Argentina, 21 years earlier~

 

“Sabina, pay attention! We’re trying to move stations, Thiago wants his turn.” 

Kun looked up. She’d been so engrossed in the colouring station she hadn’t even noticed it was time to move along. 

“Teacher, can I stay here? We can share, look, I can share the markers. I’ll share.” Kun offered the yellow marker that was the dirtiest to Thiago.

Thiago looked upset with this “Tell Kun-Kun I wanna do it!”

“No, come on, up we go. We go through this every day, Sabina, I know you like to colour, we can show mama when we’re all done for the day what you coloured.”

“I didn’t like the pictures to colour in today so I drew one on the back to colour in, see, I—“

“I know, I know, I’ll pick it up and put it in your cubby for you to show mama later, off you go. Oh, my, did you get marker on your blouse again?” Señora Rubio looked very tired. Kun knew she was very bad at keeping her uniform clean, and it made mama tired too, but the boys got dirty all the time, so why couldn’t she?

“Go play with Leona over at the dollhouse.”

Kun felt resentful and sulked off to the dollhouse, knowing Thiago would fail to colour anything nicely. Leona was also sulking, but that’s because Leona always sulked until lunchtime when she could go run outside. 

“Do you want to play with them?” Kun gestured to one of the figurines. 

“This isn’t a nice set, my sister has a nicer set at home. I don’t play with it, though.”

“Suppose we could do something better with this set, then, more fun, if they’re not nice.”

“They’re never fun.” Leona seemed sure of this. Leona didn’t think anything but football was fun. Kun liked to play outside, but she supposed she was always looking for ways to change the games, to make them more fun or complicated. 

“I guess not.” Kun picked the papa figurine up anyway and fiddled with his loose arm. “I’m going to pull his arm off, okay? Don’t tell the teacher. We can make him a zombie.”

Leona looked a little interested. “Okay Kun-Kun. That could be a little fun.”

Kun was delighted. None of the other girls probably would have wanted to play this. She tugged at the arm and it came off pretty easily, which was a start. She wondered if she could go steal Thiago’s red marker quickly to give him some blood, but he was guarding them pretty carefully. Just the arm would do for now.

“My brother likes zombies. I want to be her.” Leona picked up the mama figure. “She can fight the zombie, okay Kun-Kun?”

“Sabina, may I see you for a moment?”

Kun turned around, the broken papa in one hand and the arm in the other. Maybe Señora Rubio had seen her rip the arm off. 

“Just for a moment, Sabina?”

Kun dropped the papa and slunk over, hoping she wasn’t going to get a time out. She didn’t get them all the time, and she always felt they were very unjust when she did, but she did get them more than the rest of the girls. 

“Yes, Teacher?”

Señora Rubio was holding the picture that Kun had coloured. “You drew this on the back yourself?”

“I didn’t like the frog on the front, I wanted to colour in a tiger. I’m sorry. I didn’t know that was bad, I’m sorry, Teacher, I won’t do it again.”

“No, I just meant…heavens.” Señora Rubio put the picture down. “It’s okay, go run and play, Sabina. I think mama will really like what you made today.”

~

Kun felt funny as she hurried silently across the grass to behind the shed. Part of her was looking forward to visiting Gino again, to get her mind off yesterday, but it was going to be hard looking at him knowing he was what had caused, well, all of this shit. All in so little time. Leo was such a fucking shit, Kun decided for herself. Had always been a bitch if she didn’t get what she wanted, and if it wasn’t immediately too. Her tears had been spent all night, to poor Fonte’s chagrin, but by morning, Kun just felt cold. Cold for ever falling into Leo’s arms as soon as she’d come to prison. She remembered the first moment she’d locked eyes with her as she was lead through on her first tour of the prison. Leo had walked up and slapped her hard in the face, then had pulled her aside, had kissed her tears away on both her cheeks and admonished her, told her how she wasn’t supposed to be here, how she was the good one, the smart one. Leo had been angry then, angry that Kun had failed in a way Leo felt only herself could, and Kun knew the smack was Leo being angry with herself, in a funny way. 

This time, Leo was angry with Kun, and really, Kun was determined not to give a shit. Leo didn’t get to pull that saviour crap anymore. 

“Alright?” Gino was leaning against the wall, smiling in his silly way. 

“Not really, Gino.” Kun leaned next to him in her customary position. “Leo and I broke up yesterday.”

“Shit, really? I’m sorry.” Gino shifted a bit, offering a shoulder pat, which Kun accepted. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I just want to hang out, not think about her.”

“Can do.” Gino let his arm flap back to his side. “You know, I didn’t think Leo was very nice, off the record. I’m sorry, I don’t have to say anything else about her, I just wanted to say I thought you deserved better, after all we’ve talked about.”

Kun laughed dryly. “Like who?”

“I mean…”

Kun felt her stomach grow a pit, big pit that was rapidly growing and threatening to swallow up all her insides. Gino was attracted to her. Leo had been right. Fuck, like she always was. She tried to stay as calm and nonchalant as possible.

“Got yourself a little crush, Gino boy?”

“God, I’m sorry. You’re just so beautiful and different, you know?”

“Sounds nice, I guess, to hear someone say it.”

“I know we’d never be allowed to be together, it’s illegal and all, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

The pit stilled a bit. It didn’t go away, but Kun suddenly felt very…well, she didn’t know. She wanted to prove Leo wrong, show her she could make whatever choices she wanted. Kun was never shy, that she knew about herself, and she found herself pulling him down and kissing him, reaching to hold his hips like she was in control. Gino was startled, but started immediately kissing back, hands on her cheeks, softer palms than she was expecting. Kun worked his belt buckle, almost frantic to get to his zipper. 

“Kun, Kun, you want to do this? Right out here?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, I need you, I need you.” Kun didn’t know if she really needed him specifically, but she needed his love, his attention, that she knew. 

“The shed should be open.” Gino let go and tried opening it. It was, dusty and nearly empty except for the old pots the inmates apparently once tried to grow tomatoes in, once upon a time. Kun followed him inside and finally managed to get his pants undone, but before she could go further, Gino pushed her against the wall and hiked her up a bit, so he could kiss her at his level. Kun heard herself gasp, then scramble at her own elastic waistband, trying to shove them down. Gino took over again at that point, dragging them and her underwear down to her ankles and lifting her up further. His breath was hot and ragged, as frantic as she was as he dropped his own pants down and tugged fervently at his cock, desperate for it to go hard as fast as possible. 

Kun didn’t feel too wet, and it was a shock when he pushed up inside her, a sharp feeling she’d not experienced in some time. She felt herself cry out, but grab and cling at his back and tell him to keep going. It was nearly an out-of-body experience she was having, being thrust into in a dark dirty shed. She’d not fucked a man in ages, years, really. She’d forgotten how it felt to be full like this. 

All of this thought must have brought on some sort of wetness, enough that he started to glide better and Kun was slid up the wall a little with each thrust, panting in rhythm with him. She was surprised at how strong he was, enough that he was holding her up for this long, even though she knew she was small. He was starting to go faster, peppering her face with erratic kisses, and Kun knew he was close. She wasn’t, but she didn’t feel like chasing the orgasm. That wasn’t what this was about. She just was desperate for his attention. He did come, hot and short and shuddering, like any man she’d ever been with ever had, and Kun felt her head clear a bit, still pinned against the wall with cum starting to drip a bit down her leg. 

“Can you let me down, Gino?” Kun said it softly, giving him a kiss on the lips to show she wasn’t upset about her lack of an orgasm. He did so, and Kun pulled her pants back up right away. 

“Are you…?”

“I won’t tell anyone, Gino, our secret, right?” Kun didn’t know if she’d fuck him again, if she’d want to or not. If he’d expect it, even. But that didn’t matter right now. 

“Uh, yeah, our secret.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana ventures out of her comfort zone, Kun has a problem, and Jamie has a confession.

“Listen, it’s not so hard when you just break it down, okay, just think about how the words would sound naturally.”

Cristiana was going to tear her hair out, increasingly ratty extensions and all. She was trying to be as gentle and delicate with Little General Messi as possible, but she’d been nothing but angry and petulant during all the lessons they’d most recently had. She’d not been so bad at the beginning; she’d been easily frustrated but she’d try to plough through it each time. Now, Cristiana wondered why Messi was even bothering to come to the class. It was obvious she didn’t want to have a thing to do with it, and her temper had only become more inflamed each class. 

It was oddly fascinating to watch her, as much as Cristiana didn’t want to admit it. She wanted very badly to know what made Rakitic and ter Stegen’s great leader so great, and as it stood, it was a bit of a mystery. It was easy to see, with Ramos. She commanded a room, was firm without truly being bossy, had wit to her, and Cristiana felt she was the right amount of manipulative without going overboard. Little General Messi, on the other hand, was silent and had little focus. And if her behaviour around the English books was any indicator, she was also lazy and wanted all the answers given to her. Maybe it was just because she really didn’t like English class, who really knew. Regardless, it made coming in to teach her a class very stressful, because Cristiana didn’t know if and when she would snap and explode. 

“You can just tell me and we can try the next section, it’s easy, come on.” Messi was tapping the book with her finger. 

“We should try the work page, I want to see if we should move on.”

Little General Messi didn’t move and stayed silent. She did this a lot. She would try to out-silence Cristiana until she’d move on. Sometimes it would work, other times, Cristiana could silence her back. This time, Cristiana didn’t have a lot of patience. 

“Why do you come and do this? It isn’t mandatory, is it? I don’t see everyone come in for classes. It just seems to make you frustrated.”

“I am not stupid.”

Cristiana felt an ominous feeling, like this was close to Messi’s breaking point. “Oh, I didn’t think you were, no. I just feel like you don’t like it.”

“It’s fine. Oh, I’m going to arrange to come in one more day a week.” Messi was staring hard at Cristiana. Somehow, she knew she was being analyzed, put into context with Ramos’ group. Cristiana didn’t know exactly where she fit with Ramos either still, so she didn’t know what Messi seemed to know about her. 

“Are you sure?”

“You don’t want to help me? I have some free time these days, more than usual. I will come in. By the way, please go get your hair fixed at the salon, Bartra will help you out in there. It looks like shit.”

Cristiana nodded, at a loss. 

~

Jamie sat on the edge of her bed, dangling her feet. It was after dinner and some people were starting to mill around the bedrooms, but it was still pretty quiet. Most people knew that she was active during the day but she needed her recharge time and they seemed to accept that. Ronaldo hadn’t quite caught on to that yet, and Jamie guessed she wasn’t the biggest fan of quiet, but it wasn’t that bad. There were louder roommates. She could have Aguero. Worse, she could have Ramos or Pique. 

In a funny way, she liked Ronaldo a lot. She was awkward in the charming way, like she ought not be so strange in her mannerisms but was anyway. Everyone liked to joke about how much Ronaldo was a prissy baby princess, herself included, and she really was in one way, but she wasn’t exactly the epitome of a bitchy gym bunny. She was more of a mama’s girl, eager to please. She tried out a lot of weird and not very funny jokes too, enough that it wasn’t annoying, just strange and endearing. 

“Hey, want any company right now, girl, or wanna have your own time?” Gwen plopped onto Ronaldo’s bed across from Jamie. 

“Oh, whatever, I don’t care.”

“You good? You’ve usually got your puzzle book out, you’re just sitting here swinging your legs.” Gwen also swung her legs.

“Oh, yeah, I’m good. I guess I’m just lost in thought. Hey, what do you think about Ronaldo? You spend more time with her.”

“I spend more time with her? You live with her?"

“Yeah, but you hang out outside the group. We’re fine with each other but we don’t really. Don’t need to, nothing in common.”

“Why do you ask about her then? I like Ronaldo, she’s got more guts than you’d think.”

Jamie hated to admit this. “Okay, well, she’s pretty and I think I like her a bit.”

Gwen looked delighted. “You like her? Like you have a crush on her? Girl, I didn’t know you swung that way. Why do you like her? What?”

Jamie felt annoyed. “Shut up, okay, talk quietly. I don’t know how I feel about her, we had this talk recently and I got quite upset with her and she was just, so good about it? I don’t know how to explain it but I just got more respect for her, realized she’s fragile.”

“Like all of us.”

“I don’t know if I just think she’s sweet and a good soul or if I like her a bit. Or if I just think I like her because there’s no one else to fucking bang in this place."

“You’d be like everyone else here, then.” Gwen looked smug. “Cris is already trying herself out for speed in here with girls, I’ve done shit with her.”

Jamie felt shocked. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that, I didn’t fuck her, we just played around. Took her literally weeks and you haven’t played with one goddamn girl yet?”

“I just can’t believe you’ve done that with her and never mentioned, fuck.” 

“Why would I mention it, Jamie? Pretty weird to just be spreading around to people that me and Cris got nasty with each other.”

“Guess I should have figured, you calling her Cris and all. Listen, don’t tell anyone, I just might be a bit crazy right now, who knows. Lonely or whatever.”

“You’re a strange one, Jamie.” Gwen got up and sat next to her. “I won’t say anything, but just jump on the horse, see if you like it. Cris is game for that shit. I mean, I think she really wants to please people in here, right?”

Jamie nodded. She wasn’t as bold as Gwen and clearly not even as bold as Ronaldo, even if she liked to think she was tough. There was no way she was going to jump right into trying to fuck Ronaldo like Gwen’s suggestion, she was absolutely sure. It was interesting to think about, though, Ronaldo possibly being into girls. It was worth a shot waiting and seeing.

~

“Look, we’ve got to stop doing this all the time, this is getting a bit ridiculous. It’s like we’re a couple of damn rabbits.” Kun said this in a joking tone like she was being light, as she hiked up her pants, but in all honesty, she meant it. She didn’t like fucking Gino. He was quick and sloppy and not very romantic. She kept agreeing, because that’s just what they seemed to fucking do when they met up now, but it was growing tiring. He was a much better person to be around when they just talked about life and her art. Kun felt compelled to keep her friend, or she guessed her fuckbuddy now, because there was no one left. It wasn’t that the rest of her group had been terribly awful to her, but she’d distanced herself. She couldn’t be around them with Leo there, not at all. It was lonely as fuck and it was just easier to keep meeting Gino, however miserable it was. 

That wasn’t all of her concern, though. She was about four days into what should have been her period, and at first, it had sort of started lightly, but wrapped up after a day and a half. She was half-hoping it would come back, as she felt moody and sensitive like she was on it and there was still time for it to reappear, but it was making her nervous anyway. She’d asked Gino to pull out each time after their initial fuck, but there was still that first time that was starting to haunt her a bit.

Gino laughed like he didn’t get it. “Yes, yes, like rabbits. You would make a cute rabbit.”

Kun forced out a laugh. “Thank you, Gino. I should head off, though. If I’m ever away too long people will get suspicious."

Gino nodded, still dopey from his orgasm. Kun felt a little irritable that she also had not orgasmed yet at all with him, but she supposed it was half her fault. She wasn’t trying too hard, nor was she instructing him in what she liked. That was one thing she missed about Leo fucking her. She came when Leo fucked her. 

“We’ll meet up again soon, okay?” Kun gave him a light peck on the cheek before scurrying out before him, almost in a rush to get away from him. He wasn’t a bad sort at all, but this was all so pained now. She really wasn’t paying attention, because on her way into some safe bastion inside, it didn’t matter where, she crashed into Geri. Truly remarkable, considering Geri was over a foot taller than her and it was impossible to miss Geri in a crowd, let alone by herself. 

“Hey you, I was hoping I’d see you.” Geri took hold of Kun’s shoulder, which made her shudder a bit. Leo may have told Geri the worst things ever about her, and God knew what Geri was ever thinking.

“Oh?”

“I miss you, babe, I haven’t really felt able to come talk to you and ask for your perspective because I didn’t want to betray Leo like that, but she’s in an English lesson right now, so no harm right?”

“Leo doesn’t have English lessons on Thursdays.”

“She does now, she added an extra day, probably to fuck with that poor sot Ronaldo.”

Kun nodded, feeling a small sense of vindication. She didn’t want to fuck with Ronaldo, she was trying to fill her time. Suffering a bit from the breakup. That was fine by her. 

“What did you want to ask me about it?”

“Just wanted to know your side. I’m really sorry all of us have ignored you, you know how it is…” Geri petered off and looked upwards. Kun did. Leo had won the friend group. Of course she would, because Leo won everything. 

“What’s there to say? Leo didn’t like that I’d made a friend, she got jealous and flew into a temper tantrum. And she’s fucking impetuous and shot off her mouth, and I don’t want to be around her anymore.”

“Well, she does shoot her mouth off.” Geri cocked her head and nodded a bit. “That isn’t what she told me, but I don’t think either of you are going to be telling whole truths.”

Kun felt indignant. “I’m not lying.”

“Didn’t say you were lying, I just think your truth might not be fully true. Hers isn’t either.”

Kun exhaled loudly. Geri was so annoying this way. She could be the most level person in the world, to an infuriating degree. Of course, her other side was full-on flaming, toss-people-against-a-wall rage, but for the most part, her rational side was too strong. Even now, as Kun was visibly showing just how annoyed she was, Geri was reaching over and wiping a spot of dirt off Kun’s shirt, completely ignoring her exasperation. 

“You been alright though?”

Kun was tempted to answer snottily, but realized this might be her only chance to voice the little niggling fear she was having. “I’m fine. Hey, you know, I’ve been wondering, you know all sorts of doctor things. I’ve been having some weird period stuff?”

“Hey, you’re talking to the queen of weird period stuff, been pretty fucked for life. What’s up?”

Kun realized there wasn’t really any way to divulge this without Geri knowing exactly what was going on, but she was already in the middle of this. “I just was wondering, like, what early pregnancy symptoms were? I was just wondering.”

Geri raised her eyebrows. “Other than it being late? Pretty basic, spotting, mood swings, tender breasts, you know.”

Kun stayed quiet and itched her nose, looking off to the side. They were still standing in the hall, close to the laundry room, and Kun rather wished they’d step inside and have this conversation privately. Geri seemed to get it, taking Kun by the shoulders and ushering her inside. It was empty except for a couple dryers going, obscuring the sound of their conversation to anyone outside, which was perfect. 

“Something tells me you’ve missed your period with spotting, mood swings, and tender breasts.” Geri said it in a funny way, like it was a joke, but Kun knew how deadly serious she was. 

“You can spare me the lecture right now, alright? I don’t even know if I am.”

“He fucked you? Fuck, that is just…Kun, that shitbag deserves to rot in prison now himself, alright?”

“Hey, hey, I agreed, alright? I was the one that went for it.”

“I really don’t care, Kun, I don’t care how much you wanted it, he took advantage of you! He is in the position of power! Period!”

Geri was raising her voice and Kun felt herself start to internally panic a little. It didn’t feel like Gino had taken advantage of her. She almost felt like she’d been the one to press sex on him. 

“Don’t yell at me Geri, just don’t! Look, if I am, and I don’t know if I am, can you help me? Please, nobody else knows nearly enough about doctor stuff. I’m asking for help.”

Geri’s incoming fit seemed to come to a halt, her face changing almost immediately to a softer, although distressed face. “Yeah, yeah, okay, Kun. We can try and meet around Leo’s work and lessons, okay? Let me know how you’re feeling in the next coming couple weeks.”

~

Cristiana poked her head into what was supposedly the salon. She’d held off stepping into it for a long time, which was pretty shocking. It had been hard to stay away, but there was something deeply intimidating about this particular salon. Bartra was probably very good at her job, she saw a lot of surprisingly nice hair all throughout the prison, but any connections to Little General Messi past eating with Rakitic and ter Stegen made her sweat a bit. Bartra looked a bit like a cold bitch anyway, with her piercing greeny-hazel eyes and completely unflustered appearance. 

There were two salon chairs and a large mirror, along with one sit-down hair dryer. Cristiana was surprised to see a second girl styling hair along with Bartra. She recognized her as being from the Brazilian table but didn’t know her name. She was a young pretty thing, and Cristiana at least recognized her as sitting with Neymar a lot. 

Bartra looked up from the head of an older woman whose bangs she was cutting. She didn’t say a word, which made Cristiana unsure if she should come in all the way. The other girl looked up as well, to Cristiana’s relief. 

“Do you want to make an appointment?” 

“Um, I was hoping so, yeah.”

Bartra didn’t look up from her task. “I don’t have anyone after this, Rafa. Go sit down.” 

Cristiana didn’t move. Bartra finally looked up, looking tired. 

“Are you going to sit down? You want your hair done right away?”

“Oh, me.” Cristiana went over and sat in the little group of chairs off to the side, wishing there was some magazine to hide behind.

Bartra laughed gently and went back to her work. Her hair was long, dark, and perfectly pin straight, and Cristiana imagined you could do all sorts of great things with it. It looked thick, like there was loads of it, and even though the style was simple, it worked as a very elegant look. It made Cristiana jealous. It seemed like a lot of these girls had such lovely thick hair. It had been a surprise to learn Bale’s actually wasn’t, when she’d been running her hands through it. Its texture was very fine, but there was at enough that she at least didn’t look like she had frail hair, even though she did, and lord knows she wasn’t lacking for length. It was probably the longest hair in the prison. But everyone else that came to mind, be it Little General Messi or Jamie or anyone, seemed to have good, thick hair. Cristiana never had. It was difficult hair and it was easier to just force it into submission with extensions. 

“Ronaldo, come sit down with me, here.” Bartra was patting the chair, and Cristiana got up, amused that everyone seemed to know her name even though she didn’t know too many people’s names still herself. Bartra’s voice wasn’t bitchy, either, to Cristiana’s surprise. It had a soft tone to it. 

“I was wondering when I would see you in here, I’ve been waiting.” Bartra fluffed Cristiana’s hair out and ran her fingers through it a couple times to get a feel for it. “By the way, Rafa and I keep it pretty familial in here, nobody wants to call their hairdresser by their last name, it’s weird. You can call me Marta while you’re in here if you want.”

“Okay, Marta. Is it that bad?”

“Just looked like you care about yourself. I mean, not in a bad way. Ronaldo, are these glue-ins?”

“They are, yeah.”

“It’s better to get sew-ins these days. Rafa knows how to do weaves, I don’t, but generally we don’t have any.”

Cristiana felt a bit of panic. “No?”

“These aren’t doing well, I would have probably recommended getting some olive oil or something from the commissary to help them out.”

“I haven’t had a good time getting body care products. Don’t know what’s available.” Cristiana very much felt like crying. “You look so nice, how do you get all that? How do you get highlighter?”

“I order packages, you’re allowed to get a package four times a year. My friends all chip in and foot the bill, so I buy some makeup here, whatever looks okay, and the rest comes from outside. It’s what they feel they can do for me. They can’t visit.”

“Oh.”

“Ronaldo, can we take these out?”

“I…I don’t really want to, no. My hair is disgusting.”

“It’s going to keep getting worse. You’re going to look better with a shorter hair cut, look, I’m thinking about here.” Bartra gestured to a little past Cristiana’s shoulders. It was about the length that Jamie had it. That might be all well and good for Jamie, but that thought terrified Cristiana. 

“No, please, please, please keep it long.”

Bartra stood her ground on the matter. “Your hair needs help right now. I’ll give it a blow out, maybe a few caramel notes in it to give it dimension. It’s going to look good.”

“I’ve never had short hair.” Cristiana never knew what would set her off in this damn place, but this was apparently one of those moments. She started to cry, as per usual. This startled Bartra, who came around to the front of the chair and leaned in a bit. 

“Hey, I get it, okay, I would be devastated if I had to cut my hair right now. I get how much it means, okay? I’m just trying to help, it isn’t healthy right now and we just don’t normally get extensions in, this is going to have to happen eventually.”

“Why can’t we take them out and just leave what’s left underneath?” Cristiana kept crying, feeling like a stupid toddler. 

“We can, but it’s going to need care, and it wouldn’t have any shape to it. I just want to get it back to a place that would look nice, you can trust me. I do all the girls in here with non-black hair, and the girls with black hair go to Rafa, so we have a good system here. I promise it’ll look good if you’ll let me, don’t cry.”

Bartra was much nicer than she came across. Cristiana felt like she really did empathize, but she still wasn’t convinced about the haircut, no matter how much she reminded herself that most of the girls had nice hair, as she was just noticing earlier. 

“I’m just really afraid, it’s like a security blanket.”

“I totally get it, Ronaldo. But think of it this way, just make this new hair part of this chapter, right? Can you trust me?”

Cristiana considered this. She’d already stolen something and been sexual with a girl and she’d barely been here. She’d been bolder than she ever could have imagined. When Bartra put it that way, it didn’t seem so crazy to get a haircut. It still seemed horrifying and frightening, but at this point, what did it matter?

“Okay, I trust you.”

~

~The Ramblas, Barcelona, 7 years earlier~

“Are you sure? Let me try the machine again. Your machine must be broken.”

“Listen, babe, we’ve done this three times, it isn’t my machine, it’s your card. Do you have another one?”

Marta shoved the machine back at the teller and stormed off, trying to shake off the embarrassment that she couldn’t buy a damn package of chips and a drink. It was her fault, she’d bought another pair of boots and was now going on nothing until next Wednesday except for her change for the bus, and Marta was beginning to think maybe her mother had been right all along that she should have gone to school, and working for a shitty flat had been a terrible idea. Rent was running her dry and she was left with nearly nothing left for food. 

Well, at least it was keeping her thin, Marta mused lightly as she tried to calm down and shake off the shame. She didn’t need the chips, that’s all. It was hard walking past the Sephora a couple blocks over, her worst vice and absolutely the place where she blew most of her money, but at least walking past the windows, she could confirm that the boots did look great. They went up to the knee and were very smooth. Good spike heel too. Probably made men a bit nervous with how tall they made her, but maybe that was a good thing. Make them sweat a bit. 

No matter how much she was trying to avoid the thought, Marta still felt hungry. Maybe she could sweet talk a man into buying her a muffin, or something, if she thought she’d forgotten her wallet and looked very pouty. It had worked on occasion in the past. Lots of people getting their after-dinner coffees too, so there should be quite a few suited-up men dying to do their grossly transparent good deed for the day. She’d head off that way. 

“Excuse me? Miss?”

Marta had been leaning against the side of the Sephora building fiddling with her phone, hoping it had enough juice to get it home and plugged in. “Hm?”

“Are you…open?” It was an older man in a suit. Not the best suit in the world, but he looked like some office worker. 

“Sephora’s, um, yeah, open.”

“No, I meant, yourself.”

Well. Clearly she looked like a damn hooker. Christ. It wasn’t even the right time for the hookers to start coming out and wandering the Ramblas. Usually that wasn’t until nine or ten when they started making their appearance. Marta felt grossly insulted, hoping she didn’t look cheap. The boots certainly weren’t. 

Maybe she looked like a high class one, or at least she told herself. This guy didn’t look super dirty, just your average idiot who would want a classy woman. Also probably a lie she told herself to make herself feel better. 

“I don’t know. You got a hundred and fifty?” Marta couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth. A hundred and fifty euros would be plenty enough food for the week, but was she really at this point? Well, she’d just said it, so she guessed so. She also had no idea what an average prostitute charged, none whatsoever.

By his face, she’d lowballed herself, because he looked pleased. “That’s great, yeah. I’m here from Madrid on business, I have a hotel room.”

On business from Madrid was the fakest thing Marta had ever heard in her life, but she nodded and took his arm. She’d fucked a lot of boys in school, lots of really unpleasant ones too, and this really wasn’t all that bad. The hotel he brought her around too was really mid-range, so maybe he really was staying there for the night and not just booking it until she left, but it was hard to say. He could have put his suitcase in the closet. He took off his jacket, looking at Marta’s front a bit lasciviously, hope she’d take off her own coat. It was fake leather, a good fake, but she really wished it was real. 

“What’s your name, dear?”

“Don’t call me dear, it’s patronizing. My name is Marta.” Marta took off her coat, then skipped right to pulling off her tank top. The hundred and fifty euros loomed in the background, the ultimate goal, and she hoped he wasn’t expecting some fancy experience. She wouldn’t have any idea what to do. 

“I’m sorry. Marta, how old are you?”

“I’m legal.”

He nodded and Marta wondered if that was a plus or a minus in her favour in his mind. He came over and touched her tits without asking, reaching around the back to take the bra off, which did give her the first real bit of fear about all this. 

“Hey, this is just a quickie, right? I got shit to do after this, I’m giving you my cheap rate so don’t expect me to do anything extra like blow you. You have a condom, yes?” Marta tried to sound confident, like she completely knew what she was doing, but she really just was trying to keep herself from having to do anything completely frightening. He was in the process of peeling her bra off, and Marta let him stroke her nipples until he reached in to kiss one, then she shoved his mouth off a bit. 

“Hey, let’s just have our fun, right? Show me what you’ve got, okay?” Marta was determined for him not to catch any weird feelings. The guy nodded and stripped off, and Marta cruelly felt herself judging his body. He was probably like fifty, and Marta realized in her head that she shouldn’t be so heartless, but then again, he was the one willing to pay for sex. He probably had a wife. A lovely wife. 

The sex itself wasn’t the worst she’d ever had, at the end of the day, which was kind of pathetic. At least at fifty, he knew where all her parts were and how they operated. Couldn’t be said about a lot of schoolboys, and Marta made a big show of telling him how good he was. It seemed to be what you were supposed to do, she figured. It made him excited, to say the least, and he came quicker than she expected for an old man. She wouldn’t have minded laying down a bit in the bed after, really. Hotel beds, even mediocre ones, were generally pretty soft and this one was no different. Her bed at home was serviceable but a bit shit. She knew what a terrible idea that was, though, and patted his arm, sitting up. 

“Alright, I’ve got to be going, sorry. What was your name?”

“Juan.”

Probably super fake. What would it matter to her? She was never going to see him again, she’d said her real name. 

“Yes, let me see.” He got up to find his wallet, and Marta leapt up to get redressed. The boots slung on the floor next to the skirt and leather jacket did look rather hooker-ish, in retrospect, but what could she do. He spent ages finding his wallet, and she began to fear that he was going to pretend it had gotten lost and not pay her. Right before she was about to get upset, he pulled it out and handed her a pile of notes, smooth and neatly organized from his wallet. He was prepared for this. Definitely a serial john, she decided. 

“Thanks, I’ll let myself out, right? Hope you had a good time.” Marta added the last part on because it felt funny just leaving, but what she said felt funny too. Juan, or whoever he really way, nodded like he really meant it, and Marta rushed out of the room and flung herself down the stair. Never again would she do that, Christ almighty. Her skin was absolutely crawling, but now she could go get a muffin. She could get fifty muffins. Chuck money at the corner shop guy who treated her like garbage.

That is, Marta would have gotten a muffin. Sephora didn’t close for another hour, and there was a very appealing new line of Marc Jacobs lipsticks out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun and Geri come up with a plan, while Gwen wants Cristiana and Jamie to spend more time together.

~Barcelona, six years earlier~

Fuck, today was not the day for this. It wasn’t supposed to come for at least another nine or ten days, and of course it decided to raise its head and make an appearance on Graduation Day. Geri didn’t have her bag with her, having abandoned it with her mother long ago when her family went to go find seats, which was going to make things more interesting. She guessed she’d have to make do with asking someone else in the bathroom for some help with a tampon or whatever, which didn’t really embarrass her and she knew any girl would try to help with, because girls were lovely that way, but the point was that she felt very betrayed by her body for the millionth time. 

Geri was endlessly frustrated with her stupid uterus, and genuinely was at the point where she was considering having it pulled out. She’d never had a stable or regular schedule, not once in her life, and when she’d been dragged to the doctor’s against her wishes when she was in her teens to see what the problem was, they’d said she looked okay. They’d even done an ultrasound of her uterus and said it looked normal, and some girls just had to deal with irritating cycles. She guessed that was the end of that and had just dealt with it, but it didn’t make it any less annoying. What did she need it for anyway? She had absolutely no intention of carrying children ever in her life, so she could just get rid of it, right?

Someone else was walking into the bathroom. Geri poked her head out of the stall and saw it was another girl in graduation regalia like herself, stepping inside to pin her hat to her head better. Geri hadn’t bothered with that herself, just jamming it on her head. She’d gotten a much smarter haircut before grad, a nice short clip, and it felt good knowing that it was pretty impossible to muss and ruin the look. She’d gotten to the point where she didn’t really feel like she needed long hair to look like a girl in anyone’s eyes. Shakira liked her how she was, she could do what she wanted. 

“Hey, hate to ask you this, do you happen to have a spare pad or something? Great timing for this to happen today, eh? Someone up there isn’t watching over me.”

The girl laughed apologetically and reached into her tiny handbag that was holding probably just her phone and her hairpins and lipstick, and pulled out a tampon. “This’ll do? I’m so sorry. This happened to me at my cousin’s wedding recently. Light yellow dress.”

This was why women were perfect, Geri decided. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it. Have a good grad, alright? Congratulations.”

She nodded and smiled in return and Geri got herself sorted and out of there as quickly as possible. She knew everyone would be lining up to begin the ceremony soon and she’s have to find out her number for the queue. They hadn’t exactly grouped specific faculties together past health sciences, so she only spotted a few people she knew peppered throughout the crowd trying pathetically to gain some semblance of a line. Classic college students, really, struggling to get it together even as they entered the adult world. Geri wanted to take the list out of one of the organizers’ hands and start shouting to help them out, get everyone in order, but she knew that wasn’t going to happen. 

“Hey, are you actually going to move somewhere or just stand there like a big lump in the middle of the lineups and get in everyone’s way?”

Geri turned. Fuck, not this kid again. Paulo Moya. They both were in the pre-med stream and Geri found him fucking infuriating. They argued in their seminars constantly, to the point where it wasn’t fun arguing and instead personal. She could have sworn he once mumbled under his breath that she was just an ugly dyke after a particularly bad argument that she knew she’d won, so there was that too. He seemed like the sort of jerky dudebro who’d dream of being a gynecologist just to look at pussy all day long, but would still end up a bitter family doctor that didn’t listen and tossed you out after a two-minute appointment. Like so many doctors, it seemed. 

“Hm, sounds like something a short person would say. Are you where you should be, Paulo? Or did you come over here just to give me a good ribbing for old times’ sake?”

Paulo rolled his eyes. He always seemed to want to start a fight but could never finish them. Stupid as a man could be, she supposed. 

“Why don’t you worry about yourself, okay, bud?”

“It was just a joke. You’re so sensitive.”

“Mmmm, I loved it, you know I did, Paulo. Why don’t we find the M’s and P’s now?” Geri was starting to get pissed off with today. She knew grad, like any big event, would hold a certain level of stress, but she honestly just wanted to get the piece of paper, smile for pictures, then go and have dinner with Shak and her family and just, move on. Why did everything become a chore?

“Good luck, then. With a little luck, we’ll be doing our residencies together.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Paulo wandered off, which was at least some relief. Geri liked a good rivalry, and took great passion in creating them in her classes to try and give her something to focus on to be the very best, but there was just something a little different about their fights. Like if she let him, he’d really be heartlessly cruel. It didn’t matter at the moment, though. The woman in charge with the clipboard was still trying to shout, not loudly enough, over the din to get everyone in order, and Geri would be damned if she wasn’t going right over there to help her now anyway. 

~

“Get on with it, will ‘ya?”

“Some of us have fuckin’ shit to do today, Pique, get the fuck off the phone.”

“Go jack off for six more minutes, I’ll be done when my fifteen minutes is up!”

Gwen didn’t bother fussing like the rest of the line. Her turn would come, and there was no point arguing with some as inflammatory as Pique anyway. She always got in the line early enough that she was never late for her call, never. 4:30 exactly, so that her family would be done church and at home by 3:30. She knew they’d get scared if she didn’t call, every third Sunday of every month, and to be honest, she’d probably be scared if they didn’t pick up. There were a couple phones anyway, one of them would be free soon. 

Gwen always wondered what people prioritized to spend their money on, whether it was food, makeup, or whatnot. It was always the phones that chewed all her money up. She felt some people squirreled away what they made, as if to get some big-ticket item, but they were all pretty stupid. She knew one was an electronic Sudoku machine, but then you’d be chained to spending all the money you made on batteries for the rest of your time in jail, so that was a dumb thing to buy. Hotplates were pricey too, but you could save up for one in not that long. It was really just the phones, for her, and she knew some people were definitely the same, but they weren’t having to make calls to Cardiff. 

Pique got off the line and a sulky woman took her place, bringing Gwen to the front of the line. Not long now. Someone on the phone with their lawyer, she figured, so they’d cut it short, lest they get charged by the lawyer too. She wasn’t wrong, and a couple minutes later she hung up too. Gwen always needed a second to compose herself and breathe before she called, which was hard when there were other ladies behind her who would steal her spot if she didn’t rush to the phone, but she was used to it now. Dial slowly, take your breath now.

“Hello?”

“Hello mummy?”

“Gwen, darling.” There was a pause and a rustle. She was telling dad who it was, Gwen knew. They always did that, even though it really wasn’t going to be anyone else. 

“Are you healthy, are you well?”

“I’m genuinely fine, everything’s the same here like normal. Haven’t gotten in any trouble, I promise.”

“Are you eating? You said last time the food had gone further downhill.”

“I’m still eating, I promise.”

“I worry, you were always skinny.”

“I bulk up on protein bars, mum, I’m fine.” Gwen laughed a little bit to lighten the mood. Her mother always fretted so much. She guessed she would too, if she didn’t know what her daughter looked like after so long.

“How’s dad? Still taking all his medication?”

There was some good-hearted grumbling in the background. Classic Frank Bale, really. 

“Is Vicky there?”

“No, she’s out with the kids, but I wanted to give you the update, exciting news over here.”

“Yeah?” Gwen wondered if exciting news was going to be the type of news that would make her happy and sad. She’d missed the birth of her nephew, that had been both happy and dreadful to deal with mentally from in here. 

“Your sister is getting married!”

“Is she? Oh, that’s lovely, I was wondering when Dave was finally going to pop the question.” Exactly what Gwen feared. Now she’d miss the wedding too, no doubt. Maybe another baby. She always tried to console herself that at least she’d been around for her niece’s birth.

“Yes, she’s already in Bride-zilla mode, you know how it is. And it’s so early yet. She…she wishes you were here, of course.”

“I know, of course I know. I wish I was too.” Gwen leaned against the wall, feeling guilty. Not about fucking up enough to land in prison, she already was guilty about that every other waking minute. Guilty about being so far away. 

“Here, let me put your father on. He says you’ll want to hear the scores.”

“Tottenham kicking arse, I can only assume?”

“I don’t know, luv, I’ll put him on.”

That was essentially the only conversation she ever had with her father, but it was comforting. She could probably find out enough of the scores without talking to her father, the telly here did rattle a few of the better battles off in between the Spanish football matches, but she never watched them. Gwen would rather hear the excitement in her father’s voice of him telling her about the shock and the drama. She let him go on until her meter started to click, her call about to come to an unceremonious end, as it always did. 

“Dad, dad, the call is going to end, put mum on the phone, quick, I love you, okay? Tell Vicky and the kids I love them, I love you.”

“Love you Gwenny, stay out of trouble.”

Gwen could hear her mother starting to cry a little, like she usually did. “Love you, be safe, be good, come back safe to me.”

“I will, I will, love you.” The phone clicked off, the line going dead, and Gwen knew there were the tears coming down her own cheeks. She could never stop them, no matter how hard she tried. 

“Come here, you.” 

Gwen moved instinctively into Sabina’s bosom. She was never there at the start of the call, never, but she always seemed to know, and she was always waiting a few feet away by the end of the call, there for the fallout.

“Are your folks healthy?”

“They’re okay, yeah,” Gwen scrubbed her face into Sabina’s shirt like a baby. “My sister is getting married soon.”

“How joyous, we will make some cards and send them. Here, let’s go to our room, no need for tears, everyone is well.” Sabina guided Gwen along to the bedrooms. “I know it hurts to miss things, I know.”

“Love you, Sab,” Gwen mumbled into her sleeve as she wiped her snotty face on her arm. 

“I love you too.”

Gwen never truly understood how Sabina could be so tender and loving with her when she was so ruthless with everyone else. She was the big bad Ramos to everyone but her, and it didn’t make sense, it would never make sense, and Gwen never intended to figure it out. 

~

“You know, there’s a new lot of prisoners coming in soon, I head.” Rakitic pointed her fork at Cristiana. “You finally won’t be a new baby, you’ll get to boss the new ones around like you’ve been here a million years.”

“I guess I’ve liked being new, in a way, I do think people have been nicer to me because I haven’t known stuff.” Cristiana really didn’t want to get into explaining that she rather hoped she’d be out of prison by now, and a new crop of women coming in made her feel a bit shitty, another nail in the coffin that she wasn’t getting out of here any time soon. 

“Now you’re just old and wise. You’re fitting in really well, you know, you’d be great at leading people into groups.”

Cristiana pointed her fork back at Rakitic. “Is that your job? Or yours, Gwen? Put the nicest ones on the front lines to try and recruit people?”

“Thanks for the compliment, way to brag yourself up too.” Rakitic laughed anyway, and ter Stegen flashed a little smile, raising her eyebrows slightly. Practically a guffaw from ter Stegen, really. She was warming only a little to Cristiana, she thought, and she hardly even spoke to Gwen, even though Cristiana was quite certain she liked her too. Now that she had heard her speak at least a little more, Cristiana thought part of it was because her Spanish was very poor, and it was, even though Cristiana had learned through Gwen she’d been in prison for the past four years. But even with the weak Spanish, she’d lower her voice and giggle and whisper with Rakitic all the time, less at meals but more whenever she saw them in passing. 

“You know, Cris, me and Jamie were going to go run on the track right after this, do you want to come? It’s supposed to be a bit cold out, well, for Spain, you don’t know shit about Welsh weather, but that’s better for running, right?”

Gwen must have recently decided Jamie was her new best friend behind Ramos, because she’d been spending a lot of time with her recently and dragging Cristiana with her. She’d rather go with Gwen and Jamie anyway, at the end of the day. Carvajal and Kroos and Pepa seemed like their own little sub-group in a way, although Cristiana had grown fond of them in a funny sense, and sometimes it was a little stressful toeing the Ramos line. She had noticed an interesting splinter in Little General Messi’s group, though. Just a little one, not any sort of faction break that would demand people to take sides, but Aguero seemed to have left the group. Cristiana did wonder what happened, because all her zeal had left, really, nor was she trying to reach out to another group. She just seemed to mince around, still scribbling and scribbling on her scrap paper and her notebooks, but always alone. Cristiana had asked Jamie, who sat at Aguero’s table during supper, what had happened, but Jamie had said she didn’t care and Little General Messi had probably chucked her out because Messi was a bitch. 

Cristiana wasn’t so sure about that. She had to spend a lot more time than she wanted with Messi, but she just seemed very introverted and frustrated. 

“Yeah, okay, I’ll go.”

“Great. I’m nearly done, I want to go get my hoodie, and then we can go, okay?” 

Cristiana nodded and gave up on her plate. Lunch was some sort of fish soup, which could have been good, but wasn’t, and some really limp salad. At least salad was better, and she’d eaten a lot of it, knowing full well nothing had probably been washed. Supper was the only meal that had any effort put into it, and even then, it was usually so greasy and Cristiana could just feel the fat try to cling to her. The run would be good. She followed along as Gwen left her tray on top of the garbage can lazily and duck out before a guard could reprimand her for it, although Cristiana doubted he would. It was Benzema, who most of the girls seemed to lovingly call Benz. He definitely was the sort to look at a girl’s breasts while they were talking, which bothered Cristiana, but he was easy to work with. Masche was tougher in that regard, more concerned with doing his job. 

Jamie was behind them a bit, which meant she must have been enjoying the food, at least to some degree. She rolled her eyes a bit at Gwen when she went outside, which seemed weird, because they’d made the arrangement together, but Cristiana decided she must be just imagining things. 

“Great, so, who’s got gossip?” Gwen started out the pace gently. 

“I don’t think I pay attention well enough.” Cristiana wanted to go a little faster than them. Gwen and Jamie were both fit girls, in different ways, but Cristiana always had a bit of a winning drive in her, an urge to beat them even if it wasn’t a contest. 

“Okay, Jamie, what’s the gossip? Come on, I know all you do is listen.”

“I try not to get involved with all that shit, you know that, Gwen.”

“But you do know.”

“Tell me what happened with the great Messi-Aguero breakup, then, you lied, you do know.” Cristiana tried to choose her moments to be sassy. 

“Jesus, okay, Aguero’s been fucking that new-ish guard Maradona and Messi got jealous, although she wisely pointed out how batshit Aguero was being. Simple. Fucked, but simple.”

“Fuck, you kidding me, Jamie?” Gwen slowed her pace a bit. 

“Nope.”

Gwen looked like she wanted to say something else, then slowed her pace to a halt and checked her watch. “Oh, shit, guys.”

“What?” Cristiana stopped too, wishing she had better running sneakers. Already she knew she was going to have a hell of a time without them.

“I totally fucking forgot I had to get the Electrics, Jesus, I’m sorry. I feel really dumb. Just go on without me, you’re already out here.”

“Okay, but—“ Jamie gestured like she was going to say something, but Gwen was already running inside. Cristiana felt a little worried. Jamie suddenly looked squirmy, like she didn’t want to be spending solo time with Cristiana at all. 

“Do you want to keep going?” Cristiana tried this gently. 

“Yeah, it’s fine, Ronaldo. Let’s just run.”

“If you don’t want to anymore, it’s okay.” Cristiana started jogging again anyway.

“No, it’s fine. Talk to me, Ronaldo, let’s make this fucking chore interesting at least.” 

“So you don’t want to be running with me?”

“I don’t want to be running, even though I know it’s good for me. You’re fine. Look at my hips and thighs, Ronaldo, I’m just not really a runner.”

She did have very thick hips and thighs. It was in that way that men enjoyed, but Cristiana had to agree, she just likely wasn’t destined to be a runner. Other sports, like her judo, were probably better. 

“Okay, um, let me tell you about when I went to visit the States to practice my English, I have lots of good stories from there, okay? Have you been?”

“Yeah, I’ve been. Oh, hey, Ronaldo, I didn’t say this ages back, but just wanted to say, think your haircut you got looks nice, suits you.”

~

~Barcelona, 6 years earlier~

Geri chucked the little safe-sex pamphlet back on the counter, tapping her foot anxiously. Doctor’s waits were just fucking unreal. You’d sit and sit in the waiting room and then finally be let in to the little examination room, then wait for ages more. This was the worst wait at all. 

Dr. Monica hadn’t been particularly satisfied after the last exam, saying things generally looked normal but clearly something was amiss if she was having this much trouble, so she’d sent off for Geri to get some bloodwork and an ultrasound. All of this was known by her mother and Shaki, but Geri hadn’t let any of them come to the appointments. She knew this was making them fret, but she could deal with it herself. She wasn’t embarrassed, they just didn’t need to be there worrying and fussing. They didn’t even know she was here today, she couldn’t have them getting scared. 

Dr. Monica had called back and said she wanted to talk about the results, which had left a pit in Geri’s stomach. If nothing was wrong there should be no reason to come in, but she still tried to push this all down and hope for the best. Geri kept telling herself it wouldn’t be anything like cancer, because she’d always been this way, but it still made her shake a bit. 

“Hi, Geri?” Dr. Monica walked in while Geri had her fingers in the little buildable figure of a uterus, which was really just perfect comedic timing, Geri figured. She tried to put the little thing back together, knocking it over a bit in the process and dropping it, before sitting back down in her chair. 

“Hey, how are you?”

“I’m good,” Dr. Monica smiled. “Rarely do I get asked how my day is.”

Geri chewed her thumbnail a bit without thinking. “So…”

“Okay, first, let’s get the easy part out of the way, Geri. You’re not sick, you’re not ill.”

“But.” Geri felt a huge weight being lifted from her shoulders, but she was still tense. 

“Okay, yes, but.”

“What are we looking at, something like endometriosis?”

“No, Geri,” Dr. Monica wheeled her chair closer. “Did you bring a friend or relative or your partner? What I’m going to tell you is going to be a bit of a surprise.”

“No, I’m fine. Don’t need anybody. Just tell me, please.”

“Okay. While you’re still healthy as a horse, we discovered a few things doing those tests. First, the lab discovered that your level of androgens, you know, mainly testosterone, were very high, much higher than average. The second is that you have one healthy looking ovary, on your left side, but the one on the right is what we call an ovotestes, which is an underdeveloped gona—“

Geri felt herself growing very hot and sweaty in her chair, and barked at Dr. Monica by accident. “Yeah, I know what it is.”

Dr. Monica inched a bit further towards Geri anyway. “It means…”

“It means I’m intersex.” The heat was too much for Geri to bear. She felt like she was going to suffocate to death in the doctor’s office, dear god. 

“Essentially, yes. It doesn’t have to mean anything about your identity, although it explains a lot of things, like your height. It can be really shocking for people to learn, especially if they never had any idea, but you’re not alone. We’re finding more and more people don’t fit the binary we’ve always used.”

Geri stayed quiet. It did make a lot of sense, made a lot of sense why she was tall and had grown thicker body hair and was practically flat. But it still seemed so fucked up. She’d always been so sure in how she felt, like she really knew herself. Geri recalled, back when she was fourteen or fifteen, her mother asking her if she ever felt like she was a boy. The question had come as a surprise to her, because she never had. Maybe her mother had seen something in her she hadn’t. 

“I have a few things you can look up, a few websites, if you want to know more,” Dr. Monica handed over a piece of paper with a printed out list of websites on it, which Geri stared at dumbly. “As well, I’ve printed on the bottom a gender therapist that I highly recommend, if you do feel you need someone to better talk to about all this. Maybe you don’t.”

“Thank you,” Geri stood up and stuffed the piece of paper into the back pocket of her jeans. “Everything’s good, it’s a relief to know I’m healthy.”

“Good.” Dr. Monica smiled and patted Geri’s arm as she guided her out of the office. Geri booked it faster than what was probably safe in a parking lot to the car, and practically as soon as she unlocked the door and hid herself safe inside, rolls of sobs pushed their way out of her. Geri knew exactly what was bothering her too, and it was so, so stupid. She felt like an idiot for never seeing that part of herself. She should have. Every sign was there, honestly. Geri didn’t know if she was going to question how she identified now, honestly. Was this enough to change her views?

The little jingling sound of Geri’s phone came from the passenger seat. Shakira. She hadn’t told Shakira where she was and she was probably wondering when she was coming back to the apartment. Geri wiped her face, trying to get a grip before picking up. She’d tell Shakira when she got back to the apartment, and she’d know what to say. Shakira always knew what to say. 

~

“Do they look bigger to you? They feel bigger. Heavier.” Kun stood sideways, waiting impatiently for Geri’s opinion. The dryers were going again, but that meant some girls would be back in an hour to fold the clothes and there wasn’t a lot of time. 

“I can’t tell through that baggy shirt, but if they feel heavier, they probably are bigger, Kun. Here, lift up your shirt, let me see your stomach, alright?”

Kun appeased Geri and lifted up her shirt for her to feel. At this point, Kun realized she was just doing all this to tell herself maybe she wasn’t pregnant, that there was still a chance, but there was no fucking chance at this point. It was a bit hard to explain, but somehow, she just knew, intuitively. Her next period was supposed to be in a few days, and she knew it wouldn’t come. She’d even started to feel sick from time to time, although it was usually in the evening, not the morning like she thought. Geri had waved her hand at this at the time, saying morning sickness was really just the name and nausea could strike at any time, which hadn’t made Kun feel a bit better. 

“Geri?” Kun wiped her eye a little as Geri pulled her shirt back down. “Look, if this goes on, like soon, can you, like, help me just, get rid of it? You’ll know what to do, right?”

Geri looked appalled. “Kun, no. I studied to be a neurologist, I don’t know shit about how to perform an abortion, I mean, in theory, I know how it’s done, but there is not one thing in this prison that you could use to do it like at the doctor’s.”

“Please? You at least know how to do stuff safely, right? Follow procedures and that? Doesn’t have to be like at the doctor’s.”

“No! I’m not going to give you one some other way, absolutely not, Kun! On no planet, could my code of ethics allow it!”

Kun felt frustrated. Geri was supposed to help her. “What am I supposed to do, then, Geri?”

“You want to really know my opinion? Turn him in. Say he had sex with you and say you’re afraid you’re pregnant and have them PROPERLY check you out, and when you know, ask for an abortion, because it’s your right, and it’ll be done safely, and it’s easier for the prison to deal with that then have a pregnant inmate running around.”

“But…” Kun knew that was technically the right thing to do. But it seemed so heartless. Gino would be sent to jail for a long time, and he wasn’t a bad man, he really wasn’t. Just a little dumb. 

“Okay, fine, don’t listen to me. But you’re not going to get my help in getting rid of it, I won’t have that on my conscience, okay?”

Kun chewed a nail. “What if I kept it?”

“Kun, they’d still need to know who the father was. And what about Leo? You really want to explain that to her? Are you prepared for that?”

“I don’t know what to do, then!”

Geri looked almost mad for a moment, then pensive, pushing herself up to sitting on the counter. She stayed quiet for a few more minutes, rubbing her chin in thought almost comically, then looked back up. 

“I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Which guard do you hate the most? And would you be willing to fuck him?”

“I…”

“You fuck your least favourite guard, somehow beguile him with your charm, god knows you beguiled Maradona, and make sure you get caught. Boom. Maradona walks free. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That sounds risky, I don’t know.”

“Okay, then I guess Maradona is going to jail.”

“Alright, okay, I’ll give it a shot.”

~

~Buenos Aires, Argentina, 10 years earlier~

“Sabina, this is the last time, before I take that book away from you and keep it on my desk until class is over.”

Kun slammed her sketchbook shut and rammed it back in her bag. Señor Moreno was such an ass. Mathematics had never been something Kun enjoyed, although she could probably do it better if she tried, so she always whipped through the exercises carelessly and drew for the rest of class, which she knew he hated. No room in his life for art and creativity, she guessed. He probably had a really boring house. She’d wanted badly to finish the drawing, another mock-up for a character she wanted to add to her comic, and it had been going well, but now she didn’t have a chance. Her work uniform was already crammed into her bag, she had to go right to McDonald’s right after class, and she wouldn’t be done until it was time to go home and to bed. 

There’d been a lot of changes over the years, but in some ways, it wasn’t so bad. When Kun was fourteen, her family had moved back to Buenos Aires, where she’d been born, to be closer to family, and Kun liked that it was bigger than Rosario, although Rosario hadn’t been too bad. There was something about Metropolises that Kun really liked, so Buenos Aires was the best she could really do for Argentina. She knew there were much larger towns in the States, and that was the goal, overall. Why she busted her ass all evening long at horrible McDonald’s. She’d make enough to make it to one of the really big Comic-cons, one in San Diego or something like that. Kun knew that was the place where everybody would be trying to hock their work, but she figured by the time she made enough money, her comic would be perfect by then, or at least really good, and she could find someone who would be interested in it. That was the way to do it, she was sure of it. 

Kun knew she had the reputation in school of being a dreadful nerd, but it was kind of her niche and she liked it. She didn’t like when people called her a weaboo, although she supposed she kind of was. How could you not be with something like Avatar: The Last Airbender now on the air? Kun was certain it had revolutionized television. They called her a big nerd a lot too because of how obsessed with Lord of the Rings she was, but it didn’t matter. A classic was a classic. Kun was determined never to let someone make her feel bad for her passions. 

Señor Moreno was talking to some boys at the back of the room about football. Kun couldn’t give a rat’s ass about football and it was frustrating that they got to get away with goofing off and talking about their passions but she couldn’t draw in class, even if she was done. The only thing she ever knew about football was one of her old tiny classmates from her childhood in Rosario, the itty bitty girl with the big ears and bigger nose named Leona, had been given an opportunity to move away to Spain to pursue football when she was eleven or twelve, Kun couldn’t remember which. It was supposedly this big deal and the class had thrown a party for Leona, but she hadn’t seemed to care much. She was almost sullen at the party, but Leona was always sullen. Kun wondered how she was sometimes. She wondered how a lot of her old friends from Rosario was, but she didn’t really stay connected with any. 

Señor Moreno still wasn’t turning around. Kun slipped her book back out. She’d try and finish the eyebrow she had been working on, at least. It had been pesky, but Kun thought it was the angle she’d draw the whole body at. Maybe she’d have to change more than she thought…

“Ahem.”

Fuck. Kun felt sulky as she closed the book and handed it over. 

~

“Alright, inmates, up and at them, morning sunshines!” 

The lights came on, and Cristiana was already jolting up and out of bed. She knew the drill too well by now, and she usually had a good shot at the showers. Some of the women just did not have the same drive to get there quickly, but she could just could not deal with the cold water. It felt like needles, although she supposed it was one way to wake up. Jamie was always a little behind her, taking her time to pull off her nightshirt and put her robe on instead, and neatly getting her clothes ready for when she got back, but Cristiana couldn’t be bothered with all that. The hot water was all too precious. 

Cristiana had started to have a grand interest at looking at all the women while she waited, not at their junk or their tits, but just at their arms and legs and backs in general, because many of them were covered in tattoos. She tried to look at them surreptitiously, so she didn’t look like she was ogling the poor ladies creepily, but she really was interested. For example, she didn’t have any idea Little General Messi had any tattoos at all, she always had a tight white undershirt under her blue top all the way to her wrists, but when she’d seen her naked, she was covered. Her right arm was a full sleeve which included an utterly massive portrait of Jesus, and most of her left leg was too, and there was a portrait of someone on her back too, amongst a few others. Her face looked so solemn, like someone who wouldn’t want tattoos at all, yet there they were. Ramos had a lot of ink too, all in black and white and peppered over her, particularly on her arms but elsewhere too. It wasn’t enough to constitute sleeves, still too scattered and incomplete, but they were interesting to look at. Ramos had once nearly caught Cristiana squinting too hard at her crotch once, because there was a tattoo of a little eagle literally right above her pussy and Cristiana had been trying to look at it, but she managed to jolt her head away before she looked suspicious. Cristiana herself didn’t have any tattoos—while they looked lovely, she gave blood a lot and she knew she wouldn’t be allowed if she got ink, so that had been that. 

“All yours, gorgeous.” Some woman from the Spain table that Cristiana had never interacted with remotely but seemed to be slightly sleezily looking her up and down stepped out of the shower, and Cristiana ducked inside, getting her towel a little wet in the process by accident. She’d bought a little plastic bucket from the commissary for her soap, which had been a godsend, because there was no place for soap or shampoo bottles except the floor of the shower, which was too disgusting to even think about touching, so the bucket was perfect. Cristiana started soaping up her hair, which admittedly was much easier to do with shorter hair, when she heard a knock from the stall next to her, like someone was knocking on it waiting for a response. Cristiana leaned over the edge to look a bit. 

It was Jamie, remarkably already having gotten a shower despite being behind Cristiana. She probably kicked an older lady out for it, Jamie had enough harshness in her to do that. Speaking of her own tattoos, Cristiana couldn’t help but focus on a little crown over her left breast. Jamie had nice, soft, big tits, and Cristiana admitted she was jealous of them, the type of tits she had always wished for herself. 

“Oh, look at that, it’s you, didn’t know who was on the other side.” Jamie turned and grabbed hold of the edge of the stall and went on her tiptoes to lean over and look into Cristiana’s. “You got any body wash, I ran out like an idiot. The bar soap they give us dries out my skin.” 

“Yes, I have some.” Cristiana bent over to get it and handed it over, even though she hadn’t used it yet. 

“Nice ass, Ronaldo.”

“You ask for my things and then you insult my bum, that isn’t nice, Jamie.”

Jamie laughed. “You get better with your jokes over time, you know, Ronaldo.” She backed up again and began to rub some of the body wash on herself, which felt oddly erotic. Cristiana was still watching, and Jamie clearly didn’t give a shit that she was, but that was Jamie for you. She never did care about anything unless it was terribly important. She handed it back when she was done, a clear sign for Cristiana to stop watching, so she did and tried to get back to her own shower, but she felt a bit flustered now. Cristiana had the urge to touch herself, wanted to keep thinking about what she just saw, but she’d infuriatingly have to wait, especially with Jamie right beside her. Cristiana was trying very hard to not feel ashamed of herself when she thought about things like this, it was a bit strange coming to terms with the fact that it was okay to feel sexual stuff because she had so little before, and it was hard not to be sexual to some degree in here, so it was okay, but still foreign feeling when it came into her mind. Night would do, no matter where Jamie said was a better time or place for it. She’d just make sure she was more discreet.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new crop of prisoners arrive at the jail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Implied child molestation occurs in this chapter in a flashback.

“Do you know when Sabi’s going to be back with the new girls?” Ivana had to raise her voice a little over the dull roar of the hairdryer, but it only made Marta laugh a little and switch it off, spritzing a little more product into her hair. 

“She’ll be back soon, I think they really generally try to get them back for dinner, for the most part. I think they told her it was going to be a full van, she’ll have a blast with them.” 

“She does like them, it’s rather sweet.”

“Nobody sweeter than Sabi. It’s nice that they give her this job, makes her feel awful important, you know.” 

“She’s lucky, you know, that she gets to go out and do things. I can’t believe she actually gets to go to the store.”

“I mean, she’s usually on a pretty tight lead, but it’s good for her. Helps her feel a little more normal, I think she needs it more than a lot of us.”

Ivana nodded. She hoped Marta would be done her blowout soon, she never got to watch the new girls come in, and everyone always bragged up how fun it was, seeing what the fresh meat looked like. She never thought it exactly would be, a little cruel to watch these upset women walk into their new life, but she had grown too curious and now she did want to know. Neymar had promised to come in and tell them when they were coming in, and Ivana hoped she’d remember. 

“Have they agreed to let you start up the little garden to grow tomatoes in the back, then?”

“Not yet, Enrique keeps saying it’s a waste of time, but I’m wearing him down.” Ivana was certain a little garden would help everyone. If they wanted to help cultivate it, then it would be a positive force in their life, and anyway, giving the kitchen fresh produce would benefit literally everyone. Ivana would get her way, she knew it. 

“Hey, hey, I just saw Sabi pull up, get up!” Neymar ran into the salon, delighted looking, running right over at Rafa to tug at her arm and pull her up, despite the fact that Rafa was mid-trim. Ivana was always amused at Neymar’s energy, a very childlike one, a little like Sabi in a way. 

“Girl, girl, I’ll try to catch them if I can, I gotta finish here, puta.”

“You’re no fun. Are you coming, Ivana? You said you wanted to come.”

“I’m done, eh, Marta?”

“Yeah, go ahead, I’ll catch up with Sabi at the end and just ask her what she thinks of the new lot. At least you look fresh for the new squad.”

“I wonder if Leo is going to want any.” Ivana followed Neymar.

“Well, I guess she will, she has to fill you-know-who’s hole. That’s fine with me, honestly, hope she doesn’t pick someone she likes better than me.”

Ivana nodded, milling around with Neymar while the rest of the ladies started to convene around the edges of the recreation room near the hall. It was a bit stupid, the things that delighted them, but it really did, so she guessed the positivity was worth something. 

Sabi’s chattering could be heard long down the hall, her entourage of orange-clad followers silent and anxious, looking around and knowing all eyes were on them. Ivana hadn’t liked the feeling. It was a feeling of deep, deep embarrassment. Ivana had thought, in court, that what she was doing would make her feel like a true martyr to her cause, that she would go to prison with her head held high, but that hadn’t been the case. 

“Je li to vi, Ivana?” 

Ivana turned. Fuck, it was Luka. Ivana felt compelled through some outside source to push her way through the crowd, far harder than she would ever normally, just to get to her. Needed to hold Luka, a piece of her life, a piece of home. Luka looked just as much like she needed it, enveloping Ivana in a crushing hug as soon as she reached her. God, it felt good to see her again. So fucking good. Luka was keeping it together, no tears, and so far, so was Ivana, but there was just this shock going through her system. The tears would probably come. 

Ivana mumbled in Croatian at Luka, she wasn’t entirely sure what, but she was certain she was asking Luka what happened, why she was next. What she had done, if there’d been further crackdowns. They rocked a little from side to side, still not letting go of the hug, and Luka seemed to be mumbling back, that she’d missed her. Ivana became acutely aware of how many people were watching them, and she let go. 

“It’s so good to see you.” Ivana wasn’t willing to stop using Croatian quite yet. She knew she would stop, she knew her Spanish, and Luka’s Spanish was good, but it still felt so nice to use it for once. 

“I was hoping this was where you were. They’re getting rougher with us, they’re trying to chuck us all in the bin, you were just the start.”

“Not a martyr anymore I guess. Come with me, fuck their tour, okay? Come take my tour.”

~

Maria felt anxious and she wished she could explain it better. Supper was not going how she usually expected, and the change was starting to grate at her nerves. Ivana had a friend from her old environmental group, a woman named Modric who she had immediately hustled to their side of the table to eat with them, and Maria truly felt happy for Ivana, but there was something amiss about dinner. Modric was already laughing and smiling with the little group they ate with, which didn’t seem rightfully fair. Nobody laughed on their first day. She was having a great time getting integrated with Bale, although Ronaldo seemed similarly downtrodden. Ronaldo frequently sulked a bit during dinner, but it was over the food and Maria got the distinct impression it was just because she was a bit spoiled and she was not terribly aware she was doing it. This was a bit different, she stayed quiet while Ivana and Bale and Modric laughed away, occasionally chipping in. There wasn’t much chance for Maria to ask Ivana anything, she was too entrenched with catching up with her friend, but Maria didn’t like what she was feeling. Maybe it was jealousy. 

“You are ter Stegen?”

Maria turned, startled. There was a thin woman, almost too thin, sitting next to her, in an orange jumpsuit. She had thinner hair, scraped into a higher ponytail, and eyes that bulged out of her head like a bug, or maybe one of those tiny skinny dogs that rich models had. Maria knew this, knew some new woman had plunked next to her at random, but Maria felt her skin crawl at being addressed by this stranger. What made her shiver a bit more was the woman’s very obvious German accent. 

“Yes.”

“I remember your story on the television, I know. I remember the protesters.”

Maria wanted to leave immediately, simultaneously feeling trapped about leaping up and causing a scene. Ivana would follow, ask what was wrong. Someone might hear, also, so Maria lowered her voice even more than normal and changed to German, to only run the risk of Kroos down the table of overhearing. 

“Who are you?”

The bug-eyed woman raised her eyebrows and changed to German as well. “You don’t know me. My name is Ozil. I just wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?”

“I find you very interesting. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, you know.”

Maria felt like she was going to panic. Panic at being pushed to talk to a stranger like this, force her to do something she didn’t want to do. Nobody was paying attention to her, nobody was giving her an out. They were all laughing with Modric, except Ronaldo, still picking at her paella and sulking at nobody in particular. She knew Ronaldo, even if she was an idiot and probably a little thief. Even Ronaldo talking to her would break this terrible, terrible feeling she was having about this strange woman. 

“I think I am all full, I am so sorry, I must go. Perhaps another time, Ozil, I hope you have a nice night, I must go.” Maria got up, her fork flipping off her plate, but she jerked down and grabbed it before it clattered to the ground and alerted anyone that she was making a scene. 

Ozil raised an eyebrow. “That was a good catch.”

“I never miss.”

“I know you don’t.”

Maria felt like vomiting up her paella. She chucked the rest of her plate out as quickly as she could and rushed to the bathrooms, rather hoping, in an odd way, that Ivana wouldn’t come rushing to follow for once.

~

~Mönchengladbach, 14 years earlier~

Maria stared at the little nightlight on the wall across the room. It was shaped like a little duck. It was stupid, and childish, and Maria didn’t really like it. She didn’t need a nightlight anymore. Yet she never pulled it out. The duck just sat there, glowing away, almost taunting her. It didn’t want her to sleep. She wouldn’t sleep anyway.  
There was the little click of the door down the hall that Maria feared so much. It was always the same, she was also told to stay quiet, that this was okay, that this was normal, that nobody needed to know, but she hated it. It didn’t feel normal. Maria knew it wasn’t. She wasn’t stupid. 

She used to fight. She used to scream, all day long. Anything to keep dad away during the day, because she couldn’t escape at night. She didn’t fight anymore. What did it do for her? It was easier to hide during the day. Jean had bought her a little tiny pellet gun, and she stayed out all day after school, where nobody could find her in the bush, shooting and shooting at any random old thing. She was tempted to try and hit birds, she knew Jean did, but it didn’t seem right to the poor little birds. She wished there was some way she could chuck things in the air and shoot them down before they fell, but she imagined she’d need to be a more creative mind to figure out how to do that. Jean got annoyed at how many bullets she used up, but he didn’t seem too mad. He kept buying them with his pocket money. Jean didn’t really know anything, but he seemed to at least understand that she was happy with the pellet gun, that something in her changed. He said she smiled more, talked more, with the gun in her hand, but he never asked more.

That was only during the day. She was safe and hidden away. There was no safety blanket, no pellet gun at night. Only laying still and playing dead. The less she struggled, the faster he finished what he wanted and went away again. 

~

Leo felt critical of this new crop of inmates. Nobody seemed remotely worthwhile, at least, not yet. Ivana had brought her friend Modric to meet her briefly yesterday, and to be honest, she wasn’t a massive fan. She just seemed like some person, not someone that was going to add anything relevant to the group. Leo didn’t know how to tell Ivana that she didn’t really want Modric around, but she couldn’t, really. That would just be a bitch move to Ivana, who she liked. She was pretty and gentle and served to make everyone look good. Modric was much more blah. 

Leo had screwed up this morning and was late to get a shower, slept in one more minute than she should have, and she was in a bad mood about it. She hated waiting for a shower, but she also wasn’t in a mood to find Geri and make her kick someone out of one. She’d had enough of any drama recently, so she would just sit and stew in her towel until one opened up. 

“Hey, you fucking bitch, you weren’t in the line here, get the fuck to the back!”

“Who’s going to make me, any one of you naked bitches going to take me on?”

Leo looked over to one of the shower lines further away from herself. This could be interesting. Fun, even. It was Kroos, towel off, shaking it and continuing to swear at one of the new girls, but Christ, was the new girl arguing back. They were right up in each other’s faces, and of all the features on her face, it was her teeth that stood out. They were massive, and they jutted well out of her face, and damn, was it menacing. Kroos was holding herself together well, and Leo wondered if and when Ramos would feel like intervening on this situation, but women were already starting to jostle forward and chant for a fight and guards would be here any time, so if Ramos was going to step in it had better be now. 

The next moment felt a little surreal, as the new woman with the giant teeth literally leaned in and bit Kroos on the shoulder, such a bizarre and amazingly inspired act, and in that moment, Ramos finally rammed out of a shower, soaking wet and furious looking, and pulled Kroos away from what would have certainly been an excellent and violent fight, Kroos struggling against Ramos’ firm grasp and screeching at the girl. Leo felt herself leave her lineup, push her way over to the din and take hold of the woman’s arm, shake it, tell her to calm down, to shut the fuck up, then turn to the shouting mass of women all watching. 

“YOU WANT SOME OF THAT?” Leo felt her voice raise, adrenaline from this drama starting to course through her even though she hadn’t been a part of the fight at all. She felt alive, more so than she had in the past month. “YOU WANT TO COME TO ME, YOU GO THROUGH HER.”

Just like that, Leo had decided, she supposed. This was who was going to be in her group and she didn’t even know her name. The big-toothed woman was looking shocked as well, and when a guard finally came into to see what the trouble was and round up any instigators, Leo stepped in front of her. 

“Everything’s fine, we’re fine, everything’s worked out.” 

Kroos tried to shriek some more, but Ramos, who had only loosened her grip, shook her. For once, she appeared to be on Leo’s side about minimizing the problem. 

“Are you sure? Anyone want to be spending time down in solitary tonight?” The guard, one of the women Leo didn’t give a shit about, looked from Kroos’ flaming red, enraged face, to the big-toothed woman, to Leo’s defiant look. Ramos finally let go and came forward. 

“Everything is fine, don’t worry. Just a small squabble.”

She didn’t look too convinced, but slowly stepped out of the bathroom to leave everyone to their remaining last shred of dignity. Fights in the bathroom weren’t entirely uncommon but nobody really liked the fallout from them, often being dragged away naked for bad behaviour, so it was best to minimize them.

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman looked sort of angry at Leo, but that was okay. Keep stoking that temper, that was good. 

“My name is Leo Messi, and watch yourself, because I run one of the most exclusive groups in here and it’d be a real shame if you didn’t like me.” Leo’s voice wasn’t weak and quiet like it usually was. She felt strong and in control of the conversation, like a real leader. 

She narrowed her eyes. “Luisa Suarez.”

“Okay, Suarez. I’m telling you now, you want to start fights, be a little neater next time.”

“Fuck you.”

“Say what you want.”

Suarez stopped, before picking up her towel and wrapping it around herself. 

“You sit at the Latina table, don’t you? You don’t look Latina.”

“Argentine. And fuck you.”

Suarez’s face changed, and she laughed a bit. “Okay, fair.”

“You’ve just made me miss my place in the shower line, Suarez. Find me at breakfast. You know where I’ll be.”

~

“Look, you’re going to have to pick one soon.”

“I don’t hate any of them! Stop pressuring me!”

“Go for Benzema, he’s literally such an ass.” Geri was growing tired of this game. She knew Kun was stressed, but she wasn’t making any of this easier for herself. At this point, any fucker would do, or it was going to be Maradona anyway, which she seemed to desperately not want. Geri couldn’t really imagine why. Kun kept saying how annoying Maradona was, how she didn’t want to spend time with him. Worse, Kun had gone a little strange. She’d once wanted the abortion, then began wavering, and now seemed to not want one, skirting around the issue. She wanted to keep the stupid thing, which Geri just genuinely could not understand for a second. Didn’t she see what the other moms in prison went through without their children?

“Benzema? He’s not so bad.”

“Really?”

“I get it, he doesn’t like you.”

“Yeah, because I call him out on his shit and he’s not attracted to me. He’s only nice to the pretty girls.”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Get on it, honestly. I’ll help once you actually give me a fucking target.” Geri took Kun’s pencil and tried to stab it into the soft material the ceiling tiles were made of. “By the way, when do you want to tell Leo?”

“What if I just don’t?”

“Okay, are you going to get the abortion, then?”

Kun sulked. Geri knew how much she hated getting talked down to like a child, but it was genuinely hard not to when she was acting so much like a fucking child. 

“Can you talk to her? I mean, I don’t know, don’t tell her anything, but like, let her know I want to talk to her?”

“Do you really actually want to talk to her?”

Kun’s face suddenly crumpled. “Yes. Geri, I fucked up so bad. Leo was right, she was right about what he wanted and I was a stubborn little bitch even when I knew she was right. I keep saying I don’t miss her, I miss her so fucking much.”

“Okay, there we go.” Geri put down the pencil to rub Kun’s back. “I’ll bring it up after she’s cooled off from her lesson.”

“Who the fuck is that new girl she’s sitting with? She looks like a horse.”

“Suarez, apparently. She’s alright. I don’t like feeling a little like I’m being usurped as Leo’s muscle.” Geri tried hard to make the joke to make Kun smile. 

“As long as she doesn’t want to fuck her.”

“No, love, just Neymar.” Geri checked her watch. “Hey, better scoot, she’ll be out any time and I’m going to go talk to her, alright?”

Kun nodded and grabbed her notebook and the pencil out of Geri’s hand, before rushing down the hall. Geri sighed and rubbed her temple. She wanted to help, and she knew she would, but there was something very tiring about being a mediator, especially for these two. She didn’t know if they could reconcile this now that Kun was probably knocked up, but things would be so much easier if they could at least become friends again. Geri got up and walked down towards the learning commons to find Leo on her way out. She’d probably be in a bad mood after her lesson, but no point in putting it off. She’d probably get mad regardless.

“Leo, how was your lesson?”

“Fine.” Leo pushed past Geri a bit to get out of the commons, far away from any schoolbooks. It was a curious form of self-torture, really, what Leo did to herself three times a week. Geri supposed she did it because it looked good for getting out early if you were trying to better yourself. 

“Can we chat for a minute? We can go outside and kick a ball around.”

“Getting serious on me, Geri?” Leo slowed her pace to fall more in line with Geri.

“A little bit, don’t get freaked out or anything. Here, let’s go get your ball.” Geri dragged Leo to the bedrooms and got her ball for her. Leo didn’t have a lot of possessions, the ball sitting on the lower shelf pretty much one of the only standout items. She said it wasn’t worth it anymore hoarding too much shit. 

“You have your doctor voice on.”

“What the fuck is my doctor voice?”

“The voice you use when you’re trying to be really calm and rational. It’s a little annoying.”

“Well, thanks for telling me.” Geri realized she probably did have one. Worse, it probably was more condescending than she thought because she’d worked with kids. Leo followed her outside and punted the ball across the grass for no good reason other than to see how far she could kick it, then shot across the grass after it. Leo was such a showboater, it was funny. Geri rarely played football with Leo because Leo was much better than her, and it was coming out in full force now, she was bouncing and kicking the ball around on her feet and knees and waiting impatiently for Geri across the grass. 

“So what did you want to tell me?” Leo kicked the ball to Geri. She knew how to handle a ball well enough, but she’d always been left to sit in defense as a kid in school because she was so big, so she didn’t have the same nifty footwork Leo did. 

“It’s about Kun.”

Leo scowled.

“I just wanted to tell you to expect that she wants to talk to you, soon, she’s got some shit she wants to say.”

“What shit?”

“Not my place to say what shit, she’ll tell you, if you’ll let her.”

Leo dribbled the ball a little more. “Why the fuck are you talking to Kun? You’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“Leo, don’t pull that with me, alright? You are my best friend. Kun’s my friend too, and I’m sorry, I didn’t sign some agreement that said I couldn’t talk to her. I’ve been respectful. I don’t talk about what you tell me with her, and I don’t tell you what she’s said about you, okay?” Geri wasn’t in the mood for one of Leo’s particularly annoying moody tantrums, where she’d cease talking to you for days. 

Leo screwed her face up, like she was going to try. 

“Can I tell her it would be okay to approach you soon?”

She was still contemplating whether to throw her tantrum, Geri could see it. Must be nice to decide when to throw a tantrum. Geri couldn’t control when she’d fly off the handle, herself. It just happened, this rage that would fill her insides so fast that the only way to get it out was to act, quickly and frequently violently. It wasn’t the best solution to her problems, honestly. 

“Yeah, okay, let her know, you little traitor.”

“Oh, you’ll get over it.”

~

“You fucker, stop moving my pawn back.” Carvajal smacked Gwen’s hand away from the Parchís board. “Gwen’s a cheater.”

“I only moved it once! Okay, once, everyone saw ONCE, right?”

Cristiana wished she cared. Gwen and Carvajal and Pepa and Kroos were playing the stupid board game and seemed to be having a good time, even though the game in the recreation room was in terrible condition. It didn’t even have all the pawns, and they were using some rather creative items in its place, things like the little crucifix off Carvajal’s necklace as one of the pawns. A real mess. 

She had really been in a poor mood since the arrival of the new ladies. It had made her feel sad, not just because she was still trapped in this hellhole but because she saw their faces, their fears, and it just made her feel like shit for them. She was supposed to get an update from her lawyer next week, but even that hadn’t cheered her. There had been no good news about a retrial, or anything yet. 

Ramos and Jamie were also watching the game with Cristiana, cheering them on lightly occasionally, but a little disinterestedly. Cristiana couldn’t even be bothered with that today. She felt annoyed at everybody. Meals had been ruined too, because Rakitic’s friend Modric was here now, and she and Gwen got along just swimmingly already. Cristiana felt weirdly neglected, but she didn’t think she was alone on that front. Ter Stegen had been terribly moody too, even with her silence. It was a different silence. The sort where she sat with her head down. Rakitic had been talking so much with Modric, she was sure poor ter Stegen felt it. 

Ramos stood up. “This shit’s crazy boring to watch when you’re not the one playing. Let’s go.” She gestured to Cristiana and Jamie to follow her, and Cristiana knew she was being told to follow, not asked, so she got up. Jamie also did, and Ramos took them over to the games shelf, taking boxes and rattling them and opening them, looking for one that wasn’t practically ruined.

“So, why are you acting like a giant bitch the past few days, Ronaldo?” Ramos looked critically through the contents of a Monopoly board. 

“I’m not trying to be a bitch, I’ve just felt sad.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“You just don’t get how much Ronaldo cries, she’s holding together fine.” Jamie pulled a chair over and sat in it cross-legged. 

“Look, Ronaldo,” Ramos chucked the Monopoly box on the ground. “You’re pissed because everything’s finally set in for you. I get it. This isn’t just a bad holiday now, and I have no idea how you managed to pretend it was for like two months. That’s got to be some sort of record.”

“I don’t deserve to be here, I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why can’t your rich lawyer get it overturned? No offense, but we all know you have a better advantage than most of us. Take some responsibility.”

Cristiana wanted to hit Ramos. She wasn’t being fair. Jamie uncrossed her legs and got up, putting her body between them a little, even just to create some distance.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, okay? Ramos is just saying you should try to make the best of this.”

No, she wasn’t. Cristiana knew Jamie was only trying to diffuse the situation, but it wasn’t going to help. Cristiana sounded shrill, and she knew it. “I don’t want to play a board game, I’m leaving.”

“You do what you want, Ronaldo, let us know when your hissy fit is over.”

Cristiana stormed off. Everyone treated her like she was a spoiled brat. She wasn’t spoiled, she’d fought in life. They didn’t know fuck all about how poor she had been in life, how she’d fought to turn it around. They had no fucking idea at how grateful she was for the money she had, how she’d used it to help her mother first. She knew she didn’t know some things, that she made mistakes, that she didn’t always understand people’s other perspectives, that she’d never been as worse off as some people and had more privilege. But why did nobody even try with her? They put her in the same league as Pique, who was so spoiled that she could use the phone every single day, buy whatever she wanted, whose mother bought her conjugal visits with her girlfriend. 

“Ronaldo.”

“Jamie, I don’t wanna be around anyone right now, I’m in a really awful mood.”

Jamie came over down the hall anyway, right up to Cristiana. She reached up and put her hands on either side of Cristiana’s face, running her fingers up to scratch at the edges of Cristiana’s hair a bit. Cristiana felt lost, and a little shocked.

“I get it, nothing’s black or white. Ramos speaks her mind, you know that, and a lot of the time, everything is black and white to her.”

“I’m so fucking tired of crying all the time.” Cristiana looked upwards to keep her eyes from dripping.

“We’ll manage to grow your rhinoceros skin in here, Ronaldo, alright? Whether you stay your full sentence, or leave early, or what you do, I don’t care if you did or didn’t commit a crime, try to grow from all this, alright? I think that’s something a person like you can do.”

Cristiana nodded.

“You’re going to be alright on us?” Jamie dropped one hand, patting Cristiana on the face with her other before stepping back a little to give her some breathing room. 

Cristiana nodded again. “I’ll try my best.”

“Stay away from Ramos for a little, maybe, let your steam blow off. She doesn’t mean to be so heartless, she’s just got rough edges.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Jamie wandered back down the hall back to the recreation room, because, as was so often the case with Jamie, she was done with the conversation. Cristiana felt her heart grow a little fuller, even though it still ached a bit. She’d imagined now, several times, what it would be like to touch Jamie, to rub their bodies against each other. She imagined now what it would be like to kiss her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new inmate Ozil remains mysterious, Kun and Leo's quarrel continues, and Gwen is determined to bring Jamie and Cristiana together.

~Reus, Spain, 4 years earlier~

“Off on a grand adventure!”

“You’re going to love your college years, baby, best years of your life.”

“Honestly, study, the parties aren’t worth it, I should know.”

Sabi felt overwhelmed. Everyone was coming at all sides of her with all this information about what to do, or not to do in university. She hadn’t wanted her mother to throw a party for her before she left for university, but here all her relatives were here anyways, cheering her on. It was supposed to be nice. 

It didn’t feel nice at all. Sabi felt as if she was suffocating. She’d seen all the posts online about how stressful university was and none of her relatives was making it any better. What did they know anyway? How long had it been since they’d been to university? All she read about was how many people had anxiety about it, how they’d rather do anything than write a paper. She already didn’t even know how she was going to finish off school this year. Every morning, it felt like a bunch of bricks were dumped on her when she tried to get up. 

“Real quick, I’ve got to go to the bathroom, alright? Let’s get the cake out, alright, I know you made one and you’re just torturing me.” Sabi went upstairs, knowing that probably looked a little weird. She could probably just say she wanted to use her own bathroom rather than the downstairs bathroom, or she could just hope that nobody would notice or care in their merriment. Any excuse for the Spanish to throw a party, she thought briefly, as she marched into her parents’ ensuite bathroom and flung the medicine cabinet open. Her mother always ordered her Xanax in 360’s, so she never noticed when some went missing. She’d been doing it for a couple years now, just to take the edge off some days, the really hard days. She’d never made anyone the wiser, although she did realize she had to be careful. There’d been more hard days than she’d have liked recently, all because of graduating, but at least she was leaving soon and her mother would just think the pharmacist miscounted in several months. 

Sabi took a deep breath. She wished she could just stay upstairs for half an hour until she started feeling a bit more mellow, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. Back downstairs she’d have to go, and act happy and cheerful like she always did. Then school in a few months. Then having to make friends with new kids, exams, stricter class rules. How she’d take the edge off there, she didn’t have a clue. 

~

Kun knew Leo was outside. She knew it. Perfect opportunity to talk to her out in the fresh air, where she was most comfortable. She knew she had to. Geri had said any time was okay, that Kun had better do it before Leo changed her mind about even approaching her. It had been hard, watching her all week, trying to find just the right moment to pounce. She had to do it now or she was just going to wuss out for another week, she knew it. 

“Hey Leo?”

Leo stopped bouncing her ball on her head. Kun knew she was trying to count how many times she could. She did it repetitively, but that was Leo’s problem. If she let more people play with her, play a real match, she wouldn’t be doomed to playing these silly minigames. 

“Could we talk for a couple?”

Leo remained wordless but approached Kun anyway. Some relief. Her face was emotionless, and Kun hated that, not knowing what she was thinking. She knew, internally, that Leo had felt some emotions of stress or sadness at the breakup, but it drove her crazy how good she was at hiding it. 

“Do you want to sit down?”

Still no words. Kun sat on the edge of the pavement beside the building anyway. Leo also did, and turned to Kun, just waiting. 

“This is going to be hard for me to say…” Kun knew she was about to babble incoherently at Leo, blather everything she’d done over the past couple months. She didn’t know what Leo would say to her. She might fly into another temper, who knew. “I’ve made such a mistake, Leo. I wanted to tell you that you were right, you were right about him, okay? I’m tell you that I’m here to eat shit, and that I’ve really made the ultimate mistake because I’m pregnant, alright? Well probably am, not one hundred percent sure but I pretty much know, that probably didn’t make sense, but it’s really just a fucking reminder of how dumb I am, and Leo, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Leo looked up at the sky. Silence. Kun stared hard at Leo, waiting for something. Anything. Instead, more silence. 

“That’s it? You’re going to stare into space? You have nothing to say?”

Leo turned and looked at her, her face so blank that Kun could scream. Still nothing. 

“So that’s it, then? You’re going to let us go like that. I loved you a lot, Leo, God knows why. The way you showed up in my life at the strangest of times to help me through things.” Kun knew she was starting to cry, and she stood up. Leo stayed sitting, looking down and scratching at her eye. A flicker of emotion crossed her face, her blank expression changing just momentarily to a wobbly frown, before back to blank. Not good enough. Kun stormed off inside. There was a reason she’d been so hurt with Leo to begin with, and honestly, fuck her, just fuck her to hell. 

~

“Now you’re being extra moody and I hate it.” Neymar played with one of her curls. She’d originally been patient with Leo. She understood that she was going through a hard time, but she felt that at this point, Leo should stop being so annoying. Neymar had never cared about Kun anyway, if she was honest. She got that Kun was the main bitch and she was really just the side bitch, but Kun was a little annoying. Always going off about her dumb anime or whatever it was. It had been nice to finally lap up Leo’s attention without Kun’s needy ass getting in the way. 

It had been good at first, actually. Leo had wanted to prove to Neymar she was a good lover, that she wasn’t the problem in the break up, that she was a good girlfriend. Neymar used to be very naïve—once upon a time, she probably would have taken that for a declaration of Leo’s love, but she knew better. Leo was selfish, Neymar knew, no matter how much she loved being around her. Maybe even loved her. There was this quality about her that was hard to pin down, but it made her so easy to venerate, to look up to. Neymar wondered if she was just as needy as Kun had been, but maybe that was alright around Leo.

“Look, I’m sorry, baby, Kun cornered me today and wanted to talk about feelings, and I just, didn’t want to.” Leo shifted an arm around Neymar, taking some of her hair to play with and stroke. That was better. Neymar knew how much Leo loved her hair, worshipped it on her own level. If she was honest, she was pretty sure Leo had a hair kink.

“What did she want to say?”

“She wanted to apologize and shit, too late, right?”

“Yeah, too late.” Neymar echoed. Maybe not. She wondered what Leo had said back. Her moodiness indicated she was still feeling things and that bothered Neymar, bothered her more than she wanted to admit. It had been so nice to reign supreme, Kun didn’t need to get in the way again. 

“I saw you got some mail today, was it from the bastard?”

It had been. Neymar hadn’t wanted to read it. She’d read it anyway, because he’d never know if she had or not, but it had been chucked right away after. She wished he’d stop trying, but he was persistent. Too persistent, especially given where he was. You’d think max security prison would put a cap on how many letters one could send out, but apparently not. 

“Yeah, I just skimmed it, he’s still going off about how I’m the light of God or whatever.”

“Aaaaaand he’s still trying. See, isn’t it nice to swear off men?” Leo very lightly guffawed to herself, pleased with her own little humourous moment. 

“You should try dick sometime. Change your life.” 

“Nah. Although I think that’s what I miss most of all my belongings in this fucking place, my rabbiting dildo.”

That was better. Leo could be funny, much funnier than you’d expect, even light and enjoyable. It was hard to break her down, past her shyness, her hardness, which really was the allure of trying with her. 

“With all this dirty talk, are you coming to chapel this week? Please?” Neymar waited. This was a sore spot for them, always had been. Leo professed that she loved God to Neymar, but she never went to chapel, never. It was what kept Neymar going in this place, it was what kept her knowing that this wasn’t nearly hell and with a little luck she’d never find out what hell really was like. She didn’t want to say she was one of the evangelicals in the place, and there were indeed a few, but there were enough things in her life that had happened, enough moments that could truly only be due to divine intervention. Her stay here was one of them. 

~

~São Paulo favela community, Brazil, 8 years earlier~

“Hey, fuckwit, give me a little room here, come on!” Neymar pushed back at the guy behind her in line. 

“Watch your mouth gorgeous.”

“Ya wanna see how gorgeous I really am?” Neymar was used to this kind of shit from men from the richer part of town coming down for cheap deals on fruit and liquor, men who had no fucking clue how to behave here, how the community would be behind her, and not him. She was right. Danilo the shopkeeper was getting his fat ass off his stool, which was nice. Neymar would rather let him handle it. She was a little more talk than she was walk, although she could be scrappy enough if she needed to be. 

“Are you bothering the lady here? You’d better fuck off, buddy, because I won’t be serving you here.”

The guy looked disgusted with the whole situation and wandered off, spitting and swearing in their direction. Neymar went over to Danilo and sat on the edge of his knee as he settled back down. 

“Thanks. Can I have this?” Neymar picked a guava off his pile. He’d say yes, she knew, but she would always ask anyways. Never steal from your neighbour, never. He nodded anyway and took out his knife to cut it in half for her, while Neymar waved to this person and that, all of them calling a hello to her back. It was important to foster relationships with everyone, love everyone. That way you’d have everybody on your side if anything ever happened, and anyway, it was Biblical to do so. Not a bad bonus. Even right now, she was sitting on Danilo because he was rather uncle-like, not because she intended to turn him on as a thanks for his help. Not that she wasn’t in the tiniest shorts possible. 

“Oi, the fuck is that?” Another neighbour shouted down the way, and Neymar got off Danilo’s knee and stared down in the direction he was pointing. There was a car crawling its way through the crowded street, which was both an obnoxious spectacle and a bit of a hazard, considering the amount of people walking and biking. Nobody drove down here. It was a nice car too, Neymar didn’t know what make, but it was red and a sports car with the top down. As obnoxious as possible. Even the drug lords here didn’t drive cars this nice, and hardly operated by car at all in areas this populated, and a white man this rich wouldn’t possibly need cheap fruit, so he was just obviously coming to jeer as the poor folk. Whoever it was could eat a dick, Neymar decided. They were probably happier than he was. Everyone was happy here, even with the military folk always hanging around. 

As the car, slowly crawling past the gawking children who had been playing football in the street, came closer, Neymar saw there were several men in the car, all well dressed, two white and one darker like herself. Curiouser and curiouser, really. To her chagrin, the white man in the back seat was chucking money at the kids, an act so infuriatingly patronizing that Neymar couldn’t help but leave the safety of Danilo’s storefront, stomping over to the car, still inching along, and knocking the white man’s hand, making him drop the change he had in it all over the pavement and floor of the car. 

“Hey, you little bitch!”

The car stopped, and the two other occupants turned, startled. 

“We don’t need your money, you fuck!”

“Simmer down, honey, it’s just pocket change for the kids.”

There were voices behind Neymar, voices of loved ones, men in the community who were telling her to back off, that these men probably had guns. Maybe they did. They weren’t pulling them out, and they could have shot her already if they wanted to. 

The darker one, who was driving, shook his head at his friend, a silent look telling him to shut up. 

“Look, darling, we’ll be on our way. Just wanted to pass on through.”

“You didn’t need to pass through here.”

“Hey, tiger, we’re sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

More voices telling Neymar to get the fuck out of there. Apparently, the whole favela knew her bark was bigger than her bite. 

“Listen, we’ll be going. Won’t forget your face though, sweetheart.”

Neymar didn’t know how he meant it. A threat? A sexual advance? She didn’t care. She picked up one of the pieces of change up off the street and pinged it off his forehead, before stomping off across the dirt back to Danilo. If they wanted to shoot her in the back, they could do it now. Instead, they drove away. 

~

“You’ll get it eventually, don’t worry.”

“I don’t know if I will.” Sabi stared hard at the page of her workbook. Marta wasn’t very much use staring over her shoulder, because she didn’t know shit about shit when it came to schoolwork, but she watched anyway, curious. Sabi felt anxious at someone watching, even if it was only Marta. She’d been too frustrated to finish the page during her class, but promised she’d do it as homework. Stupid, stupid Sabi. Assigning homework for herself. 

“Do you want me to stay, babe?” Marta called everyone she liked babe, one of those funny quirks about people. 

“I mean, I do want you to stay, I just…”

“You want me to stay for company but you don’t want me to stay because it’s making you anxious, yeah? Why don’t you find me in an hour and we’ll have a cuddle.” Marta got up. There was no one more into the platonic girl cuddle than Marta, but that was good. Cuddles made everyone feel safe. 

“Okay, I’ll come.” Sabi settled back into her math problem. Marta was always so calm, so good to her. Made her happier, every time. 

Someone sat down next to her at the table, which wasn’t a crime, it was an open table in the recreation room. It was a bit annoying, though, considering there were probably other free tables. When Sabi looked up, she noted it was one of the new ones she’d led in recently, named Ozil. She’d gotten her blue jumpsuit, so she guessed she’d been shuffled finally into a bedroom. She must have missed it, been doing something else. Sabi would have to see who got the new girls. 

“Roberto, I have a few questions for you, you seem to know so much about the prison.”

Sabi sighed and looked back up. She didn’t, really. In fact, she was aware of how painstakingly Marta tried to keep her uninformed, even though she got all the gossip from hairdressing. Marta always said it was to keep her mind pure and focused on her studies, that she didn’t need to worry about what all the women were doing, the drama of it all. She caught some of it, but not enough to really constitute being knowledgeable. She just knew who was nice and who wasn’t, and where everything was in the prison. It was part of her job here to give clean tours, just on how to locate things, not to dump gossip on the new inmates. 

“I don’t know, shoot, if you got questions.” Sabi smiled. She wasn’t going to be rude to anyone, especially not any of the scared new girls. 

“Are you aware if anyone…” Ozil paused and lowered her voice. “If anyone has anything, you know, good?”

“Not sure what you mean?” Sabi wondered if she missed something in translation.

“Anything, like you know…” Ozil looked around, then put one finger to the side of her nose and made a little snorting motion. Oh. 

“Um, no, not that I know of. Nothing of the sort.” Sabi laughed tensely. 

“Do you think anyone would?”

“Do you need help getting clean?” Sabi didn’t know anyone who might have any drugs around, and she was unclear if this was because no one did or because Marta wouldn’t tell her. 

“No, I’m fine, I don’t need help.” Ozil looked like she was going to get up, then stayed sitting. “I’m very curious about this place, you know, it’s very interesting.”

“The ladies can be interesting, I agree, lots of good folk to laugh with.” Sabi tried to get it light, still. “The place itself is dull as soup.”

“You’re friends with miss Maria-Andrea ter Stegen, are you not?”

Sabi hadn’t been aware that Maria had a middle name, but nodded anyway.

“Do you remember her from the television? I really want to talk to her, but she doesn’t want to. Is she frequently very shy?” 

“Um, I kinda remember seeing something about her case on TV. Barely. She is shy, why do you want to talk to her? Maybe I can answer.”

“Oh, don’t worry, here, you can go back to your math. What’s it for?”

“I’m trying to work on my degree, I don’t like calculus. But nobody does, right?” Sabi laughed a little. 

“No, I imagine not. Thank you, Roberto.”

~

“Tell me what’s so good about Modric, Gwen.” Cristiana felt she could ask this in private, without everyone listening critically. Modric seemed nice, but she was a knock-off Rakitic. If Gwen was attracted to her, that would be a surprise, too. Modric’s hair was mouse coloured and she had a hook nose. Maybe that was just her, though. Cristiana was much too critical of people’s looks, at times, she was perfectly aware. She knew she’d been critical of Gwen’s, with her funny ape-y underbite and ratty hair. There was something far more appealing about being around her though. 

“She’s had this amazing life so far, I like hearing about all she’s managed to accomplish, you know? You should try it sometime, Cris, you’re being a brat about her.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.” Cristiana wondered when they were going to get told to get up and do something useful. They were lying in the grass getting some sun, which wasn’t necessarily not allowed, but they couldn’t get away with it all day long. 

“You know she likes rock climbing? She likes sports, Cris, give her a chance, I think she’s pretty awesome. And anyway, she and Rakitic are like tight as thieves but I’ve gotten some word that Messi doesn’t want her around, so I think she’d be good to have around us.”

“Do you like her?” 

“Ahhhhh, too early for me to say anything about that. I don’t think so, at the moment, but she’s pretty dope. Why, are you jealous, Cris, you want another piece of this?” Gwen turned on her side facing Cristiana, grass pieces sticking out of her hair. 

“I was feeling jealous at meals, like I was no longer the cute new one.”

Gwen laughed. “Cris, I’m screaming, that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Not so funny, it was making me upset.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’ll get you talking to her properly, alright? You’ll love her. Anyway, though, is that why you were staying away from me a bit lately?”

“A little, I was just staying away from the whole crew a bit because I had a little spat with Ramos, I’m over it, she’s over it, it’s okay.” She had worked hard to get over it, follow what Jamie told her. Ramos couldn’t seem to give less of a fuck, and she didn’t say a word one way or the other when Cristiana sat back down to hang out with them, treating Cristiana like she always had.

“So you’ve had your first fight, that’s great.”

“Wasn’t exactly my first, I had a little fight with Jamie once, I felt terrible.”

“Yeah, she told me about it.”

“You guys have been really close lately.” Cristiana pulled some grass out of the dirt absently, flinging it towards her feet as she lay.

“It’s all me, I’ll be honest. Jamie’s a loner, overall. But you know, she does like some of us, the interactions just definitely have to be on her terms.”

“Yeah, I live with her, I get that. Why do you bother, then, if it’s all on you?”

Gwen rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her arms. “I’m going to be so bad for saying this, I am, she’ll hate me if she knew I told you.”

“What?” Cristiana rolled over similarly. “Now I have to know, whatever secret it is.”

“Do you promise not to say anything?”

“Yeah, I promise, come on. You can’t start and then stop on me.” Cristiana used her whiny voice.

“Right, she has a little crush on you, okay? I’ve been dragging her around to try and make things happen, help her out, try and pull her out of her shell in front of you. Is it working? Does she talk to you more? Doesn’t matter anyways worth anything if you don’t like her, but anyway.”

Cristiana felt her face grow hot, she was probably very obviously blushing and she was sure Gwen could tell. Gwen clearly wasn’t kidding around, and it was making Cristiana feel very schoolgirlish, to hear her own crush, as hard as she’d fought to admit it to herself, like her back. 

“I think she does talk to me more, yeah.” Cristiana wondered if this was why Jamie had been so sexual with her shower gel, or why her efforts to be nicer, or at least chattier, had been due to this. They must be.

“You look so flustered, Cris. Do you like her? See, this is why I do this, I’m a good matchmaker, right? You’re glad to know she likes you, right? Look at your face, it’s so pink, you like her!” Gwen looked delighted. 

“Yeah, I do, alright, I think about her a lot.”

“I’ll help you too!”

“You do get some sort of weird pleasure out of this, don’t you?” Cristiana laughed a bit to emphasis she wasn’t trying to be cruel.

“Look, cut me some slack, I’m twenty-one and really want to have some good old-fashioned college gossip, some good drama. I’ll help you both, don’t worry.”

~

~Funchal, Madeira, Portugal, 13 years earlier~

Cristiana felt fretful. Her mother really had needed the roast for tonight that papa had promised he was bringing back after work, but dinner had come and gone and they’d all eaten toast instead. Papa was sometimes late after work, holed up at the pub, but he usually got his act together, especially when he’d promised dinner. The butcher had said he would put it aside. 

“Stop playing with your hair so much, Crissi, that’s why it’s always so frizzy.” 

Cristiana let go of the lock of her hair wrapped around her finger. Katia was so annoying, always primping and preening and telling Cristiana all the things to do to make herself prettier, like Katia herself. It wasn’t fair, Katia was older and used more makeup, but Cristiana was determined, that by Katia’s age, she would far surpass her in her looks. She hadn’t started puberty that long ago anyway, it wasn’t fair that she was gangly right now and Katia had better grown into herself. Cristiana missed Elma, away from the house already and working, living with her boyfriend. Must be nice, to be out of the house. Katia and Hugo argued all the time and mama was so tired. And dad drank. 

“Look, I’m sure he just, stayed at the pub.”

“Yeah, well, Hugo isn’t back yet from checking.”

“Maybe he convinced Hugo to stay for a drink too.”

That wouldn’t be unlike papa. Her mother looked up from her romance novel, still looking exhausted, and then went back to it. She knew her mother was tense. Trying to focus on something else, which usually ended up being the silly books. It was because they were easy to read, and Cristiana had flipped through one in secret before. Really quite shocking stuff, although simple in their language. Cristiana sometimes worried that her mother read them so much. Maybe these romances were better than her love for dad. 

There was a knock on the door, which was weird considering Hugo or papa ought to come right in without knocking, and Katia paused before being the one to get up. Mama closed her book and looked tense, before getting up after a beat and following Katia. It was a policewoman at the door. Cristiana felt her heart fall right down into the bottom of her stomach.

“Mrs. Aveiro, correct?”

“Yes, what’s wrong, officer?”

“May I come inside?” The woman looked sorrowful. “Perhaps your children will want to stay by you.”

Mama looked very overwhelmed, but nodded. “Of course, of course, did you want a drink? I can make some tea or coffee, it is starting to get quite late in the evening…”

“No, please just sit, Mrs. Aveiro.” The policewoman sat on the couch next to Cristiana’s mother, something she’d not seen police do. Katia went around behind the couch and put her hands on her mother’s shoulders. Cristiana hung around the edge of the doorframe anxiously, not willing to flee the room but unsure of how to approach mama. 

“What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

“First, I must ask, has your husband been away for the evening?”

“Yes, he is very late coming home.” Mama’s voice was getting high-pitched and stressed. 

“I so deeply regret to inform you a man with your husband’s I.D. has been found dead on vereda da Quinta Carvalhal. We will need you, first and foremost, to come with us to identify the body. I am so sorry.”

There was silence in the room, but only for a moment. Cristiana knew she was the one that screamed first, that broke all three of them into fits of screaming and crying. A sense of panic and surrealness, like this truly couldn’t be happening, not to them, not to their family, even if papa did drink too much. 

“That bastard! How could he leave me like this? Four children! Four children, I have, you know!” Mama shouted and shouted away, but her words shocked Cristiana. She was angry with papa? How could she be angry with him right now? How?

Cristiana didn’t know when Katia got up and dragged Cristiana out of the room, mama still shouting and crying at the cop with every last bit of energy she had, but she pulled her into the bedroom, into the bed they shared, and wrapped Cristiana up in a blanket, still weeping herself. 

~

“Mama, it’s so good to see you.” Cristiana gave her mother the customary one hug and kiss she was allowed at the beginning of each visit, before beckoning her over to one of the tables to sit and chat. 

“You seem happier this week, your eyes glow more.” Cristiana’s mother settled into the chair, smiling a little. “Anything happen?”

“No, no, I think I’m just in a better mood this week. Nice, calm week.” Cristiana was not about to announce to her mother that she did feel a lot better, because she’d gotten comfort from Bale but mostly because she was a giddy teenager about her crush again. Not something mama really needed to know, Cristiana decided. 

“Well, I think I have some news that will make your day even brighter, my baby.”

“Yes?” Cristiana wondered what would affect her personally that would make her day better. 

“Mr. Diaz feels he has a real breakthrough, he’s hoping to get you on the stand very soon. You’ll have to testify, of course, against Val.”

Cristiana nodded dumbly. A chance back on the stand. Right after she had made such a fuss that she wasn’t given a chance to prove her innocence. Ramos was dead wrong and it felt terrific. 

“What would I have to do, then?”

“Testify further against him is mostly the main point, Mr. Diaz is making grand plans but he wants to buy your amnesty with it, let you free.”

“Oh, god, that would be a dream, oh, mama!” Cristiana started to cry with joy, scrabbling to wipe her eyes as carefully as she could, lest the cheap eye makeup start running horrifically.

“Oh, my girl, I know.” Her mother looked desperate to reach out and touch Cristiana, on the head or hand or anywhere, but instead made a very brief praying motion to God.

“I’ll be back home, my life will get back on track, we can pretend this all didn’t happen, it’ll be good, it’ll be fine!”

“That’s right.” Now mama was wiping her eyes a bit. “Mr. Diaz will call you soon, as soon as he has everything worked out.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kun and Geri employ their plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Dub-con to some extent in the large middle section of this chapter.

~Cardiff University Residence, 3 years ago~

“Are you going to the mixer tonight, Gwyneth? We’re all going to be going in like an hour.”

Gwen knew her community advisor meant well, milling around her doorway. That’s what they were meant to do, get their floor out and doing things. She didn’t want to go. She figured she wouldn’t be the sort to go and do all that sort of stuff. Her room wasn’t even all the way unpacked. She’d put it off. She pushed her hair out of her face a bit and smiled, a little tight-lipped to hide her teeth. 

“Ahh, I reckon not, I’ve yet to settle in, right?”

“You’re actually from Cardiff, right? Just wanted to get a taste of being out of the house?” Her CA came into the room anyway. 

“Mm, yeh, they live a bit far away, I didn’t want to transit all that distance. Spoiled.”

“No, no, it’s good, good to get out and away from our families, learn to be adults. Are you sure you don’t want to come? You’ll meet lots of people, make friends, that’s why we’re all here, right?”

Maybe. Gwen was shy, painfully shy. She hadn’t liked high school at all, preferring to fade into the distance away from everyone. She knew she wasn’t pretty, with her uneven face and her horrible underbite that her family never could afford to get fixed, that she wasn’t always the smartest, that it was easier to pull on a bulky sweatshirt and joggers and just disappear into the crowd. She’d hoped a little for that reality at university too. She could have stayed at her parents, but it was nice to at least try to live somewhat independently. She loved her parents dearly, but they’d wanted her to go too, to put herself out there. Her sister was already married and pregnant with her first baby and Gwen had a hard time keeping more than four friends. 

That was another thing, the married with babies nonsense. He mother was already saying things about how excited she was for grandchildren from both her daughters. It was hard for Gwen to try and gently show her mother that that probably wasn’t going to happen. She thought her dad got it more, honestly. She liked watching footy with him, and she was certain there was a moment that clicked with him where he realized she wasn’t there for the sweaty men with six packs, but really for the sport. Gwen had practiced saying “I’m a lesbian” over and over a million times in front of a mirror, in hopes she’d find just the right way to tell her parents, but she never did. She didn’t know what their reaction would be, sadness or acceptance, or any of it. She’d been almost angry with herself at first, to be honest, when she realized it. A sorrow that eventually, her life was going to be harder, that people might not want to be her friend because of it, that some people could be even crueler, and there was nothing she could do about it. 

It wasn’t so bad now. It was still hard to engage with people, but she didn’t feel betrayed by herself anymore. 

“I mean, yeah, but parties aren’t really my thing.”

“We’ll all go as a group, it’ll be fun, Gwyneth!”

Gwen grinned a very tiny bit, still trying to consciously hide her teeth. “I wrote Gwen on the door, you don’t have to go by what your roster sheet says.”

“Of course, of course. Gwen. Here, we’ll be back in an hour, alright? Get something cute on, we’ll have fun, other floor members will be there.”

Gwen didn’t change. She was still in her Nike shit, the exact same thing she’d worn all day when her CA showed back up, and she didn’t look too impressed. 

“You’re still going to wear that?”

“All the boys will be in this sort of stuff, double standards, right?” Gwen was hoping this would be the end of it, that her CA would just realize she didn’t want to go, but her face just looked more determined. 

“Well, I guess you’re right, here, come on, we’re going to have a blast, okay?” She came over and took Gwen’s hand and pulled her out of her desk chair. Exhausting. It wasn’t that she wanted to have an awful university experience, she didn’t, but parties were just never her thing. There’d be better ways for her to reach out here, other shyer people. Some quiet club or something, although she figured most shy quiet people might be into things like anime or video games and that wasn’t really her thing either. 

“I’ve been told there’s going to be lots of really hot guys, right?” She brought her over to the gaggle of other girls waiting in the hall, who had put on things that were an attempt at being grown up and slutty. Gwen hadn’t been aware that sequined skirts were back in. She looked grossly out of place, and that was making her more uncomfortable, but she hadn’t even brought a skirt, or a blouse, to school. The best she could probably do would be some jeans and a jumper, but that was too late now. Joggers would have to do. 

“Your hair is so long, oh my god.” One of the girls reached over to play with a piece of Gwen’s hair. It fell down to her arse, and was a real pain, but it was such a nice, safe thing, to have long hair. Nice to play with, nice to hide behind. 

“Thank you. Are we off? Is it close by? I don’t want to stay out too late.”

“Yeah, it’s over at University Hall so really central, it’s going to be lit.” 

They all walked down as a group, a few of the girls trying to engage with Gwen politely, but they weren’t all too terribly interested in her. She answered back, trying to find some common ground, but most weren’t too interested in sports and she wasn’t up on much of the television that they watched. Gwen wondered if she could show up and make an appearance at this then duck out without anyone noticing. 

~

“Oh, Bale, may I catch you for a moment?”

Zidane had just poked his head out of his office at the exact moment Gwen was trying to pass by, and she cursed silently to herself. It was probably a lecture coming, telling her to be careful around Ramos. She got it. Violent past, blah blah blah. 

“Yes?” Gwen came over to the edge of the door.

“Come inside for a few minutes.”

Gwen came and sat. There wasn’t much more she could do than just wait for his response. He didn’t look angry with her, and nothing had gone down recently, so she was wondering if he was going to just update her about some stupid thing, a job change or something. Who knew. 

“Bale, we’ve seen your progress here, and we’ve all been very impressed. No citations, no transgressions. You’re polite and calm and have worked towards bettering yourself.”

All truths. Gwen did try to behave as best she could. It was the least she could do.

“We’ve recommended you receive an application for early release.”

Gwen felt shocked. “Like parole?”

“Yes, parole,” Zidane smiled widely. “It would go to the board of course, and they would conduct a rigorous interview with you, but your chances look very high, I would think.”

“But, I’ve only served a third of my sentence. I have four years to go.”

“Your behaviour as an inmate has been impeccable.”

“I don’t care, I have four years to go.” Gwen felt indignant. This was the least she could do, to stay in this hellhole for six years. The literal least. If she left a day before that, then justice hadn’t been served. Nobody could tell her otherwise. 

Zidane looked startled anyways. “Is…is that a concern?”

“I don’t need the early release, I’m thankful, but tell the board they don’t need to worry about my application.”

“Are you quite joking, Bale? I’ve never once heard an inmate, in my life, deny themselves the chance at parole.”

“I’m doing it now, I don’t want it.”

Zidane now looked angry. “You’re holding up a spot in this prison, when we all know you’ve learned your lesson. I’ve never heard of such masochism in my life.”

“Maybe it is. I don’t want it. I won’t have the guilt in my heart that I didn’t get the punishment I deserve.” Bale got up. It was a risky move, being so defiant to Zidane. Zidane liked her. He looked furious now, like he wanted to stand up and shake her, slap sense into her. Gwen didn’t care.

“Fine, if you don’t want it, then don’t take it, you little brat! Take a citation instead! Keep wasting everyone’s time in here!"

~

“This doesn’t seem rightfully fair, to Benz, honestly.”

“I mean, we could still do this with Maradona.” Geri was rubbing Kun’s shoulders like she was about to go fight in a boxing match, but it almost felt like it. Kun had been trying her very best to butter Benzema up all week, and he was weak as sin, so it was working. In fact, it was almost shocking how easy it was to work this man over. She knew she was hurting Maradona with all this. He saw how much she had pulled away, saw her flirting with Benzema. He wasn’t a stupid man, even if he acted a bit like it sometimes. He’d tried to approach her sometimes to visit, and she’d been courteous enough to at least do that a couple times, but she’d had to turn him down for sex. He’d looked hurt and a little baffled, and Kun had scrambled to say she just wanted to go back to being friends, but now this looked really bad. Like she was turning him away just to move onto another guard. Kun wanted to blurt out that she was having his damn baby, that she was trying to protect him, but she didn’t know how. 

“You ready, then? You know what to do, right? Janitor’s closet, and I’ll start arguing with a guard outside of it. Make sure he comes, as nasty as that is, then make a lot of noise. Scream, even.”

“Yeah, I know, we’ve been over it.” Kun felt terrified. This could blow up in her face so bad. Geri was even risking a lot, picking a fight with a guard. The idea was, once Kun and Benzema were caught, Geri would be forgotten and she’d slip away, but if they weren’t caught at just the right moment, then Geri would be dragged down to solitary and she’d miss her next visit with her girlfriend. And god, then Kun would have fucked Benz for nothing.

“Okay, then let’s disperse. It’s got to be done now, Kun. I mean, I know I’m actually directly looking at your bare stomach and tits for differences, but there are. If you wait much longer than the doctors are going to get suspicious.”

Kun nodded and left the laundry room first. Her hands felt disgustingly sweaty, and she was trying very hard not to shake, but there was Benzema, watching over Neymar’s customary aerobics. Geri was right. He was a bit of a pervert.

“Hey, Benz, I have a little gift for you.” Kun took the little drawing out of her pocket. This had worked so well to woo Maradona, Kun hoped it would have the same effect. 

“Yeah?” Benzema looked up, having a bit of trouble tearing his eyes away from the ladies. 

“I made a little doodle for you. If you want it.” Kun smiled winningly. 

“Oh, hey, would you look at that. That’s me.” Benzema took it and smiled. 

“You like it? Here, come and hang out with me, you don’t want to be watching the boring aerobics.” Kun touched his arm. Bold move. She waited hesitantly after to see if he would get angry, but he didn’t. 

“Yeah, cool, we can do that.” Benzema got up from leaning against a table and followed Kun down the hall. Kun knew this looked awkward but pretty obvious when she lurched down a side hall abruptly that ended in a dead end by the recycling room, but almost no one went down it. Geri knew this was wear to go. It’s where they had decided. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Benzema folded up the picture and put it in his shirt pocket. 

Kun paused. She could try to talk. She could grab him by his damn bald head and kiss him despite the scratchy beard. She could push him against the wall and grab his dick. Instead she took out her ponytail and let her hair fall down to one side, leaving only one side bald. She didn’t do it a lot, but she knew she looked more feminine with her hair down, prettier. 

“I mean…” Kun tried to act as flirty as she possibly could, putting herself in a demure pose. It would be better if Benzema made the first move. Make her case look better, that she was forced. 

“There’s a lot of rumours amongst us, rumours that you and Maradona got kinda freaky with each other.”

Kun felt appalled. She thought nobody knew. She wondered how many of the inmates knew, now, or at least wondered what they were up to with judgement. 

“Oh, no, no, nothing like that, we’re just pals. I promise.”

Benzema nodded pensively, and leaned against the wall. Kun realized this would be the only chance she had before she scared him off. 

“Hey Benz? I mean, Maradona and I are just pals, but you, you know…”

Benzema looked up. Kun was determined to lay it on thick.

“You’re different, right? And I mean, it gets really boring and tiring for all of us in here…even guards, right…” Kun trailed off. Please pick up the slack, please, Kun’s mind screamed. Please keep this going. 

She didn’t have to wait long, because only seconds later she was being shoved against the wall aggressively, harsh kisses landing haphazardly on her face and mouth and neck. Overwhelming, grossly overwhelming, and a shocking sense of disgusting that Kun wasn’t expecting. Maradona was pathetic, particularly when fucking someone, but Benzema was being rough and frightening. Kun steeled herself. This is what she wanted, what she needed. She squirmed over to near the supply closet, banging on it with the back of her fist to alert him, to tell him what to do, and he followed at least and opened the door, not so stupid to know someone could be watching at any turn, that a camera could have watched them now, although it was probably broken. He pushed her inside, and Kun made noises, noises that were forced and fake and not remotely truly turned on noises at all, but he lapped it up, ripping his pants down. It all felt like déjà vu but much dirtier and worse to Kun. With Maradona, she hadn’t felt unsafe. She could see now, what Geri meant, what she saw in Benzema that most of the girls didn’t. It surprised her and made her feel a bit stupid. At least with Maradona, he’d liked her, thought she was interesting and fun and a genuinely intelligent person. What Benzema was doing was unbridled, a genuine break of trust and abuse of power, especially as he didn’t know he’d been set up for it. Kun felt less guilty about doing this to him and let him get her pants down. He reached up her shirt and grabbing and squeezing her tits, which honestly hurt. They’d been sensitive as hell these days, but the yelp she made just got him going further as he lurched inside of her, more forcefully than Maradona ever had. He was banging her against the wall of the dark closet with every thrust, so Kun took hold of his shoulders and pushed a bit to try and keep his force at bay a bit. 

Benzema was mumbling at her, dirty talking, something Maradona did not try. He’d praise her sometimes, whisper some of his pathetic sweet nothings, but Kun figured he didn’t know how to dirty talk. Benzema was going full force, and Kun couldn’t do anything more than chant “yes” back at him, hoping it was enough to keep him going. Kun considered how many men she’d told that they were doing a great job fucking her in order to get something out of them, usually to blow up in her face. This wasn’t a good omen, actually. It was too many men. Kun feared desperately that this would be the same, that this plan wouldn’t work. It was so risky. 

The sound of shouting outside. Geri. She was making her scene. Kun knew she’d have to wait a minute, just a pivotal minute, force some garbled sex talk to Benzema to bring him to the edge. If she waited too much longer, they’d drag Geri away. She knew how tense Geri was too, how scared she was for Kun, and for herself too, although solitary wouldn’t be anything new to her. Kun whispered her awful, nonsensical crap, focusing on Geri’s fake argument. She was blaming a guard for bumping her while passing by. Kun knew that Geri had bumped the guard, most definitely. 

Fuck, could he just come? Geri began sounding shrill, another guard’s voice appearing in the mix. Kun started to panic, focusing in on Benzema’s face to read him. He made an awful sex face, just dreadful, but it was screwed up enough that she knew he was on edge. Kun started to scream, scream in a dramatic, far too overly sexual fashion, and just like that, he did it. The sense of relief flooded over her body, so much that she kept screaming for the extra drama, and as soon as Benzema’s stupid nut was over, he looked panicked and tried to cover her mouth. Too late. Geri was shouting “what the fuck?” outside, the door was being opened, more shouting. Kun was pulled away by a guard, she felt it was Masche, more guards were being called to hold down Benzema. Kun felt dizzy, tried to haul up her pants with one hand, doing a poor job. Mascherano was sitting Kun down on the ground, pulling her pants up for modesty to help her, trying to look into her eyes. Kun’s ears were ringing now, but Mascherano was asking her if she was okay, that they were going to get help. Kun didn’t recall what she answered with, but it didn’t matter. It’d worked. 

~

“Why’ve the guards been so fucking bad today? I haven’t seen like hardly any of them, like at all.” Cristiana knew Jamie was reading. She couldn’t help it, though. She wanted to talk to Jamie more. Nobody had given her any answers either at dinner, which was a mess, particularly because there was only one frazzled guard trying to control the room. Rakitic had looked ill when Cristiana had asked her, and Gwen had looked tense and said she didn’t really know what was going on but didn’t want to say anything anyways, because she’d heard it was kinda fucked up. 

“No one told you? Damn, Little General is off her fuckin’ rocker tonight, Ronaldo, although it’s sad, what happened. Benz was caught fucking Aguero in a supply closet today, they’re treating it as a rape, to my knowledge, Aguero’s spending the night over in Sant Pau hospital to make sure she’s okay, also to check her out for shit, right? Guess she gets a good bed for the night.”

Cristiana looked across the way into Fonte and Aguero’s bedroom. She should have noticed the conspicuous lack of chatter. It seemed so cold to throw away what had just happened to Aguero as a chance to get a better bed for the night, but she supposed a lot of inmates would see it that way. 

“Do you know if she’s okay?” 

“No idea. Messi is just tearing her hair out, though, she sure as fuck was earlier.”

Cristiana nodded. She wanted to sit and talk with Jamie a bit properly, tell her she’d gotten her date for returning to court. Cristiana could not be more elated about it, to be honest, particularly if this was the sort of thing she could further expect from prison, terrible men who took advantage like Benzema. She’d never felt much towards him either way, but she could see him doing it, completely. It did sting just a tiny bit now, though, a touch of guilt, knowing Jamie liked her. She’d been so happy to know, and she’d be happier to leave prison, but it would hurt Jamie a bit. 

“Got something ya wanna say?” Jamie didn’t look up and turned a page. Cristiana was consistently amazed with Jamie’s ability to hide her feelings. 

“Yeah, yeah, I guess it’s good news. Make all this a bit lighter. I’m going back to court on the 17th, for another chance to appeal my case.” Cristiana sucked her breath in a bit. She had no idea what little flutter of a response Jamie would give that she’d spend all night reading into.

Instead, Jamie looked straight up and closed her book, her mouth forming a little “o.” 

“Really?”

“Yes, they’re going to bring me in, give me a chance to testify against my ex-boyfriend. Ramos said I was responsible for this but I can prove I’m not.”

Jamie stayed silent, before putting the book down on the bed slowly. Cristiana tried to read her face, and to her dismay, it looked melancholy. “That’s really great for you, Ronaldo, yeah, you were saying, earlier, that you didn’t do it.”

“I’m sorry.” Cristiana didn’t know what else to do but apologize.

“Why are you apologizing? That’s good news.” Jamie still looked woeful.

“You just look kind of upset, I, I mean, I’ve liked becoming your friend, maybe I can write you.”

“That’s stupid.” Jamie tried a little unsuccessfully to straighten out her expression. “No, I mean, it’s good. You’ve just been a good roommate, I don’t want a fuckin’ gob beside me.”

“I didn’t think you liked me much as a roommate, really, I talk too much and I fuss.”

“I’ve liked you better than the rest.”

Cristiana felt a little heartsick. She didn’t want to stay, not at all, but it suddenly felt very real how much she’d miss Jamie and Gwen once she was gone. They were friends, and she guessed being in a place like this bonded you pretty hard. She could leave the rest behind, never think about them, but she got a funny feeling she’d think about them for a long time to come. It didn’t help that she knew Jamie was lying when she said she was okay, because she very clearly wasn’t.

“Anyway, I should get ready for bed.” Cristiana wondered if she should go over, touch Jamie’s arm, some gesture. In the end, she didn’t, because she didn’t think it would be received very well. Jamie would likely accept it, but like a dead fish. 

“Yeah, cool.” Jamie picked her book back up and pointedly starting reading again. 

~

~Cardiff University Residence, 3 years earlier~

Gwen felt a little woozy. The pints were really going to her head. Not enough that she didn’t have some sense of what was going on at this party, but enough that maybe she shouldn’t walk home alone, that she should hope one of the girls from her floor was intending to go back too. It was easy to grab a couple pints and try and relax once she’d arrived at the party, and she thought it really had helped, even if she wasn’t interacting with people much still. She was parked on a scrubby sofa people watching, leaning her elbows on her knees. It wasn’t so bad, really. She still didn’t want to be out too late, but at least it was mellow for her.

“Hey girl, we haven’t met yet!”

There was a very pretty black girl on the sofa next to Gwen, now. Her hair was in a lot of braids put up into a big bun behind her head, and she had purple lipstick on, which was fun. Gwen was not the sort to wear makeup, and felt a lot of the looks nowadays were a little gaudy, but it worked with her. Her eyes were pretty too, big dark velvety brown eyes. She sounded a little more like a Londoner. Why would she come to Cardiff if she lived in England? Some people were crazy. 

“Oh, I’m Gwen.” Gwen wasn’t sure if she needed to say more than that. She was sure the girl would keep talking, and that was okay. 

“I’m Chibuzo, are you named after King Arthur’s wife Guinevere?” Chibuzo looked and sounded a little tipsy like Gwen but not tanked either. 

“No, Gwyneth, I’m very very Welsh.”

“What are you studying, Gwen?” 

“I…nothing proper like, yet. I’m just trying out classes. You have really pretty hair, you know.” Gwen drawled a bit, without really thinking. She’d completely meant it in a gay way, but girls, especially drunk girls, all acted gay with each other at all times whether they were or not so she probably wouldn’t care. 

“Your hair is all in your face.” Chibuzo reached over to play with Gwen’s long hair, before taking a hair tie off her wrist and swirling into a bun on top of Gwen’s head. “Now you have a bun like me and I can see your pretty face.”

That overwhelmed Gwen a little too much. Her safety blanket was abruptly gone and she felt a bit naked. Her face was lopsided, she felt. Or at least the two sides of her face were not the same shape. And her godawful teeth. 

“You have eyes like Princess Beatrice!” Chibuzo looked delighted. 

That was too kind of a compliment but Gwen felt herself pink up anyway. “Aw, no, Princess Bea is much prettier than me.”

“No, no, look just like Princess Bea, so cute, you know.” 

Gwen wondered how long they were going to sit here complimenting each other until she wandered off to go talk to all the girls. Or maybe she already had, she’d said she’d not spoken to Gwen yet like she was surprised she hadn’t seen her. Maybe this is what drunk girls just did, sit there and build each other up all night.

“I like your lipstick, it looks really nice on you.” She’d really not changed the conversation at all, but it was a little nice, talking to and praising a girl so much. 

“Thanks, you want to try some on?”

“Oh, I would look really silly, I never wear makeup.”

“No, no, you would look really cute, here, look.” Chibuzo leaned in and planted a kiss square on Gwen’s mouth then looked delighted at herself, especially when she saw Gwen’s gobsmacked face after. “You liked that? The purple looks good on you, have some more.” She kissed Gwen again, expectant that Gwen would play along better, so Gwen kissed back, to the best of her abilities. 

“Mmm, so you are fun, Gwen,” Chibuzo said breathily before continuing, slipping her tongue into Gwen’s mouth. “I was getting worried you were shy.”

This was funny. Gwen couldn’t even begin to quantify how shy she was. Another pint and she’d probably lose the cognizance she had, become stupid and loose without even thinking about the next day. She wondered how she would feel tomorrow now. Would her floormates see her making out with a girl? Would they care? Is that what you did in university anyway? 

Or maybe it genuinely didn’t matter at all. Chibuzo’s hand was high up on Gwen’s thigh, gripping it, half to keep herself balanced, Gwen figured, and half because she could. It felt good, and right, for it to be there. Gwen had fantasized a million times in high school about how it would properly feel to have a girl touch her, even greater, touch her and kiss her publicly, but it was always so shocking and melodramatic in her head. It wasn’t dramatic, nobody was even looking their way, but that’s how it ought to be anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Please let me know with any comments/suggestions if you're enjoying this still!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabi gets back into a bad habit, and Leo and Kun make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I want to change the name of this fic-- do you think that's a good idea or should I leave it? Thanks in advance. 
> 
> As usual, comments of any kind are adored!

Maria read the line over and over again. Her brother had really written it. With his own hand. Dead, her father was dead. Her heart felt less heavy. He’d had a heart attack. He always drank too much and ate too much cheese. Of course it was a heart attack. 

“Hey, you okay? Bad news from home?” Bale was making a concerned face across the table as she took a bite of her toast. 

“My father died.” Maria said it devoid of emotion. Even though her heart felt less heavy, she couldn’t say it with any emotion. What emotion was there to say behind it? It wasn’t grief, or sadness. It wasn’t joy. It just was. A little piece of her soul felt unchained, finally, let go from wherever it was trapped in the pit of her body. But it didn’t bring much relief, strangely. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry, ter Stegen.” Ronaldo looked sympathetic, maybe a little too much so. She’d been in high spirits over the past couple days. Something about her getting out of prison. Who cared. 

Ivana leaned inwards and rubbed Maria’s arm. That was okay. Ivana understood. Maria hadn’t told her everything about her life, but she knew enough. She knew what Maria had stomached in her childhood, even if she’d barely been able to spit it out. And she knew enough now to stay quiet, to just hold her arm a little, a silent way of telling her that someone was here for the startling news. 

“It’s okay.” Maria stuffed the letter into her pocket. “I’m okay.”

Ronaldo looked a little perturbed that Maria wasn’t getting more upset. She could judge all she wanted. She bet Ronaldo had a great dad. 

“You want to go take a walk after breakfast?” Ivana still held Maria’s arm a little. 

Maria nodded. Ivana had given her a lot of her faith back, in a lot of ways. Maria had become terrified of all people, but she was generally only scared of men now. She’d managed to stop fearing talking, although practically only around Ivana. Maria knew very well that she struggled to love a lot. There were only two people she felt she loved in this world at the moment, her brother and Ivana. She didn’t want that for herself. She looked at people that had been made her friends. Neymar loved so much. Kun loved a lot too. They looked so happy all the time when they were around all the people they loved. Ivana was so sweet to everyone. Maria bet she loved lots too. She hoped Ivana knew how much she loved her back.

“Ter Stegen?”

No. Maria was not having a conversation with Ozil today. She was leaning across the table, a few places down, waving to her. She did not like this Ozil, not for a second. There was nothing specific for her to pin down that made Ozil bad. But she was, and Maria had had enough of her always asking for a conversation, a hello. Ivana was allowed to do that. Ozil wasn’t allowed to just barge in. She was bad and Maria just knew it. 

“We can go walk now.” Maria stood up quickly to force Ivana up. She hadn’t been quite done her porridge and looked a bit confused, but got up anyway. 

~

~2012 Olympic Summer Games, London, England, four years earlier~

“Welcome back this afternoon, now with the final for women’s trap shooting. And here today, having absolutely smashed it during qualifications with a world record seventy-five out of seventy-five shots, is young Maria ter Stegen of Germany. She’s not quite twenty and this is her first Olympics, but she’s already received absolutely stunning golds in both the twenty-five metre pistol and the ten metre air pistol. At this point, she is definitely the favourite to win this competition, putting her two points ahead of the second place position, Slovakia’s Zuzana Štefečeková, and current world record holder. The pressure is on for young Miss ter Stegen, considering her two medals have already jetted her to Germany’s new golden child, the only two gold medals from one contestant this whole competition for the country. We’ll see whether she’ll be able to keep up the momentum.”

Maria steeled herself. The weather was calm, tepid. The wind wasn’t too bad. This was the event that mattered. Pistol shooting was like playing a game for a baby. Shooting a stationary target was something she’d been able to do for a decade now. This was much harder now, shooting the traps when they were hurtled into the sky. Now it was only twenty-five more shots to a gold. 

But it was going to be okay. Maria blinked up at the sky through her pink-tinted sunglasses. It was so calm out, blue, with the right amount of clouds. Just the right amount of light. London really was pretty. Maybe one of her favourites of all the places she’d been to in the last little while. Because of her position in the competition, at the top of the six remaining ladies, she would be going last in the roster. It would be okay. 

No misses yet. Maria was barely focusing on the women all beside her. She knew there was a little burst of cheers and claps when anyone got their target, a slightly louder one for her when she did. But nothing else mattered but the little orange target, that satisfying explosion of pink when all the powder sputtered out of it when it was hit, and hit well. That was the only thing Maria could see. But really, it was all she ever did see. Whenever she was on the field shooting, her mind was clear. There were no thoughts, none of the terrible thoughts that always clouded her head every other minute of the day. The thoughts, or really, nightmares, that kept her awake all night. 

Another shot and another. All hits. With every gratifying crack of her rifle, she felt her spirit soar a bit. She knew the commentators all over the world would be on edge, would be talking about her. The other ladies were starting to lag behind. She was approaching the world record of ninety-six. Would she meet it? Would she exceed it? Would she even miss today at all?

YES! Maria allowed herself a grin, a congratulations to herself. She was now at least tied with the world record. She nearly sorry for Štefečeková, whose record she had at least met, with four shots to go. That moment was fleeting, though, as another satisfying orange target exploded and rained pink dust all over the pitch. It was over for Štefečeková. Maria had beat her world record. Maria was getting gold. The audience allowed themselves to cheer louder in that moment. She knew her brother was amongst them, cheering louder than the rest. He was always so proud of her, taking the trip down to England even though he had a wife and a child now. Maria vowed not to miss the last three shots for him. He’d started her passion, nurtured it. She would do this for him, it was the least she could do. 

And she did not fail. Maria knew, somehow, that she would win. It was a drive inside of her, a drive that had been given a chance. And she never missed. 

~

Leo sat on the edge of the counter in the laundry room, deep in thought. She’d chewed her nails all clean off, yet she was still chewing on her fingers like they were there. The laundry room was probably everyone’s solace when they wanted peace, just the pounding of the battered dryers dulling all the roaring in your head. 

Leo wasn’t a stupid person. Kun had played Benzema, royally played the man so hard that his life was ruined. It had been a spectacularly good scheme, the sort that Leo hoped she would come up with herself if she was ever in the same situation. But it had put a lot of things into perspective for Leo, watching them wrap Kun up in a blanket and drag her off to the hospital for the night, only to bring back a quiet shell of a girl. Leo was stubborn, Leo was spoiled. She’d driven Kun away with her lack of support. She’d driven Kun away by trying to run her life. And maybe Kun wasn’t always in the best control of her life, and god was she ever fucking up, but it was still her life. She always called Kun stubborn, and she was. But how foolish Leo had been for refusing to see how much she was too.

Leo got off the counter and started down the hall to find Kun. She hadn’t meant to be so silent with her last time. It had made Kun so hurt and angry, but Leo had been at a dead loss. She genuinely hadn’t known what to say. She’d ached for not saying anything, knew how bad she’d fucked up there. What could she have said though? She didn’t even know what she was going to say now, but she’d have to try. Things were different now. Leo watched Kun, knew she wasn’t seeing Maradona at all anymore. But she protected him anyway, and God, that spoke volumes more about Kun’s moral compass than Leo ever could compare hers to. And now she was alone, for all that she’d done. 

Kun was off hiding in the library. It was a more popular spot than you’d think for a prison, she guessed because people got pretty stir-crazy and turned to books even if they weren’t very good readers. Leo didn’t like books. She still never bothered going into the library except to go into the learning commons for her English lessons. Kun was sitting on the floor at one of the ends of the rows, trying very much to hide. She was reading a natal care book. Leo felt oddly touched, something she didn’t think she’d feel at the thought of Kun having a baby. 

When Kun saw her, she looked startled, and almost instantly upset, slamming the book on the ground. 

Leo steeled herself. Saying sorry didn’t come easily to her, not remotely. Admitting she was wrong always pissed her off, because it meant she had indeed been wrong about something. She tried to speak, but her throat caught, and she knew when she eventually found her voice it would come out as nothing more than a whisper. She crouched instead, balancing on her haunches a bit, to at least look Kun in the eye. 

Kun’s voice was quiet too, not the voice Leo usually heard out of her. “What do you want?”

“I’m—“

Kun waited. She was doing her best to out-silence Leo like she had to her. 

“I was wrong, Kun.” Leo tried to keep looking Kun in the eye, even though it was hard for her, hard for Kun even. Her voice was thin and quiet, almost a whisper, as she knew it would be, but she tried to say it with conviction, with realness. Like she wasn’t dicking around.

Kun's face stayed doleful, the same expression she’d given Leo this whole time. Her dark eyes now looked wet, though. A crying Kun was hard to deal with, but it was to be expected. 

“And what were you wrong about?” More tears were pooling traitorously in the corners of Kun’s eyes. She wanted repentance. Leo knew she had a right to it. Kun had repented, she’d been brave to do it first. 

“For not trusting you.”

“And?” Kun’s breath was starting to get laboured as she began to cry. She was working herself up. Leo couldn’t have that, she was pregnant and needed to relax. She took the sides of Kun’s face and brought her own close, enough that her own giant nose brushed against Kun’s.

“For treating you like a servant. Kun, I haven’t been there for you, I have this urge to protect you, but I know you make your own choices. I can just be there to help instead of telling what to do.”

Kun reached up and clung to the sides of both Leo’s arms, still crying. “What am I going to do, Leo? We’ve fucked it all up, I miss you, I miss us.”

Leo scrubbed at Kun’s cheek a bit with her thumb. “You’re my girl, Kun. It’s always been you.”

“But outside on the step…”

“I never stopped loving you. I never said that.” Leo gave Kun a kiss, the type of kiss she struggled to give out. Sweet and tender, and Kun accepted it even through her tears. Kun pressed her cheek to Leo’s after, letting out a shuddering sob, her whole body shaking from the tears. 

“But the baby…Maradona…even Neymar…” Kun let her hands fall from Leo’s forearms onto her lap.

“Hey, give yourself a second to breathe. I’m not going anywhere.”

~

“Damn, who is he, I’d like to eat him up.” 

“Fuck me, somebody whistle at him. Someone do it, please.”

“Hey, what’s going on?” Neymar came around the corner to the dining room and saw Rafa, taking her customary seat next to her. It’d been a rough day, actually. Leo had come and talked to her. Kun was back in the fucking picture. Leo had said she didn’t want to end things with Neymar, she just wanted to go back to the way things were, but Neymar was pissed off. She got it. Leo wasn’t that good with monogamy. But she could have said she was going to go make up with Kun. A little memo would have been nice. Now she’d be stuck with annoying Kun forever. And even though Leo promised they’d go back to taking turns, Neymar wasn’t so sure. Leo and Kun would probably go back to their honeymoon period. 

“Look at him Ney, look at the new guard they fuckin’ found already to replace Benz.” Rafa pointed. 

Neymar could immediately see what Rafa meant. The guard was almost impossibly handsome, with a great head of hair and steely eyes and a beard. A big step up from Benzema. And awful handsome for a white guy, a rare occurrence. 

“I hear his name is Giroud.”

“Damn, fuck me, Rafa! Can I sit on his fucking face, jesus!”

Giroud was milling around the Eurotrash table. That wasn’t fair. Just because he was white didn’t meant he should spend all the time watching the other pasty girls eat. Just because that’s where all the blonds were…

“You can’t fuck him, Neymar. I mean it. You can’t fuck him. Look at what happened to Aguero.”

“Who said I wanted to fuck him?” Neymar put on an innocent face.

“You JUST did.”

“I said I wanted to sit on his face. That’s very different.”

~

“Hey, Roberto!” Ozil ran down the hall towards Sabi, waving in an overexaggerated fashion. Sabi smiled and waved her over. Ozil seemed to be working really hard for everyone to like her, even though nobody had initiated her into a group. Sabi knew Maria was wildly overdramatic when it came to Ozil, for some fucking reason and that she hated her, but she thought Ozil was nice.

“What do you need help with, Ozil?” Sabi smiled. 

“I found something over in the bathrooms, I wanted to know if you knew about it!”

Sabi feared a little what this might be. The bathrooms were not a nice place. It was probably pretty gross what she’d found and she should just ignore it. She didn’t know how to tell Ozil to just ignore the bathrooms in general, so she followed along. Ozil led her over to one of the stalls, one that had a remaining door but one that was definitely loose and going to fall off soon. Nobody ever did anything to fix the bathrooms.

Ozil looked around conspiratorially to see if anyone was around, then reached over to one of the crappy bathroom tiles on the wall and pushed it. It wiggled loose, leaving a little hole. A little cubby hole, actually. Sabi was surprised at this and leaned in closer. Ozil pulled out a little plastic bag and continued to look shocked with the whole situation, and Sabi knew she did too. It was a bag of white powder. Coke or heroin. Sabi felt herself grow a massive lump in her throat. 

“How did you find that? Please put it back. Don’t tell Enrique. He’ll think it came from one of us. Please put it away.”

“We can do something with this.”

“No! Please, put it back, Ozil. Pretend it’s not there.”

Ozil opened the bag instead. “I tried a little, you know.”

Sergi wished deeply that she wasn’t asking. “What is it?”

“Heroin.”

“I know you wanted to know if there’s any drugs in here but it’s a bad idea, Ozil, it really is. Not good for you. Put it back. I’ll tell someone I trust more to get rid of it, please.” Sabi knew she sounded like she was begging. She was, really. It needed to go away. She could not see that bag of heroin. She wanted to run to Marta now, tell her about it, make Marta throw it away. 

Ozil ignored Sabi anyway and looked into the bag. “Have you ever tried it, Roberto?”

Sabi stayed silent. 

“It’s a bit fun. I’m going to keep the bag, see if I can make a little extra money with it. Don’t tell anybody it’s in here, okay?”

Sabi continued to stay silent. That wasn’t fair. Marta needed to know. LEO needed to know. Leo would know exactly what to do, and figure out quickly who had put it there. 

“Won’t whoever put it there go back for it?”

“You’re right. I’ll find a new home for it. Come on, try it, Roberto.”

Sabi felt stiff. “I used to inject.”

“Then you’ll love this, it’s better.” Ozil pulled a switchblade out of her pocket which made Sabi feel even more overwhelmed. What was Ozil doing? Knives were explicitly not allowed. Rooms and bodies got checked for weapons all the time. It was a serious, serious offense that could get you sent to maximum security. Where did she get it? Did Maria know about the knife? Is that why she hated her?

While all these thoughts were going on in Sabi’s head, Ozil had wiped off an edge of the toilet seat and had made a neat line of heroin on it with her switchblade. Classy. 

“It’ll make you relax in this godforsaken hole, Roberto. I can already tell you’re a bundle of nerves in here.”

Well, if she hadn’t been earlier that day than she was now, crouched on the bathroom floor staring at a toilet lined with heroin. Only one way to get rid of it now. It was just once. Sabi lined up her nose.

~

~University of Barcelona, 3 years earlier~

Sabi scratched a bit at a bump on her arm. A little ingrown hair, probably. Sabi scratched harder. It started to bleed a little bit, not the outcome she really wanted, so she put her hand down, even though it was still itching to move a bit. She hated waiting. The university doctor’s office was such a massive waste of space, she decided. They were always so unhelpful, they never listened and it was hard to get appointments. Even now, the room was filled with other students and her appointment was fifteen minutes behind when they said they were going to get her. She wondered for a second what the other students were waiting for, what ailment they were suffering from, but then she stopped. She would rather they didn’t think the same about her. 

Starting school had been just as miserable as Sabi was expecting, not that she would ever tell her mother that. The workload was already proving to be too much, and Sabi was not clicking with any of the classes. It wasn’t too hard to make friends in class or in residence, Sabi was always a very outwardly friendly person, and she was very good at pretending everything was okay, but things started to fall apart a bit whenever she was in her dorm room alone. Too hard to sleep, she’d stay up all night trying to study if she got less than 80 on a quiz the week before. Sabi knew perfectly well that that was bad, but she was trying. She’d go talk to the stupid useless counsellor and the doctors whenever she could squeeze in an appointment, and they’d given her some anxiety meds, but Sabi didn’t care for them. They were better than nothing, she guessed, but there was something about Xanax that she missed, and they wouldn’t give her that.

Half the reason she was waiting for this appointment, actually. Her prescription had run out and she had to go ask the doctor to refill it. Well, she hoped he would. He was never very happy with her because she never tried any of his mindfulness activities or was really trying to improve herself, but she didn’t really feel in the headspace to be doing that. Sabi had tried to argue once that there was no point trying to feel mindful until the drugs started making her feel better, but he disagreed. 

“Sabine?” 

Sabi stood up. Her turn, finally. Twenty minutes late. She hoped he wouldn’t want to talk too long, just get the prescription refilled and get out of there. 

“Hello Sabi, how’s classes been going?” Dr. Gil already looked impatient and Sabi hadn’t even spoken yet. That made her cranky. She understood that he got a lot of students all day long, a constant stream of stressed out kids, but he could be nicer. 

“I’m okay, they’re okay. I don’t really need to stay and talk, I’m seeing Nina in a couple days to talk to her a little bit. I just needed to get a refill.”

“About that, Sabi. Nina and I have spoken, and you’ve been on this one now for a few months without a lot of change. You still say you’re very moody and anxious, and we think that this one isn’t working out for you.”

Sabi felt tense. “Oh yes?”

“We’re going to wean you off this one for now, so I’m going to refill a lower dose. We’ll get you off this one over time and try a few other options.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Sabi tried hard to stand up for herself. “I think it’s helping me.”

“You haven’t shown improvement.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t regressed. If I’m on less I might.”

“We’re going to try it for now, okay.” Dr. Gil wasn’t listening at all. He was scribbling out his prescription. Sabi wondered how much lower it was. She felt ill. 

“I am trying to help myself, you know. I don’t think going down in dose is a good idea. I feel very badly.”

“We’ll try it.” Dr. Gil handed the prescription over, Sabi’s cue to leave. She got up, feeling shaky, and left. She wondered if any of her friends were on Xanax and if she could buy some off of them. 

~

“You feel ready, baby?”

Cristiana very much hoped she did. She was allowed to see her mother and Mr. Diaz before the hearing, in a small private cell deep within the recesses of the court, and they were trying to prep her. Stay calm. Completely tell the truth to the best of her memory. Cristiana kept telling them that she already had told the truth, but they were apparently going to dig even deeper into it. Cristiana didn’t know in what capacity they possibly could. 

She’d half hoped that they’d let her wear normal clothes to the hearing, but that was apparently not the case. In fact, she not only didn’t get to wear something smart, she was made to change out of the blue suit into another orange one, emblazoned with the jail name with big black letters on the back. It was even more hideous, if possible. It was like they were trying as hard as possible for her to look like a dirty criminal when they put her on the stand. 

“I do. Let’s do this thing, right?” Cristiana was insisting on staying positive. She was not going to stay in that prison. She was going to be free, be exonerated, and everyone who had accused her would be sorry. She wasn’t even worrying about the other girls in the prison now. Jamie had been distant with her ever since she’d told her she was going, and Bale had been congratulatory but hadn’t had more to say on the matter. Cristiana thought she was disappointed too, really. She had wanted her and Jamie to get together, give her some fun. 

“Right. Remember. We have you here out of prison as a witness, not a defendant, so don’t try explaining yourself. Just answer the questions. Honesty.”

“I know, Mr. Diaz.” Cristiana was ready, completely ready. 

“Is Ira going to be there?” Cristiana felt anxious. 

“Yes.”

Cristiana refused to let that worry her. “Okay, great.”

“That’s the spirit. They’ll bring you upstairs and they’ll lead you out when they’re ready.”

Soon after, two guards did come up and re-cuff Cristiana’s wrists, to bring her upstairs. That had maybe been the worst part about coming to the court, other than the orange jumpsuits. They didn’t want her to run so she had to be cuffed everywhere she went, which she had never been before. Even when charges were filed against her originally, she was never picked up and cuffed. Everything to make her look as evil as possible, she presumed. 

It wasn’t a long wait, before the guard pushed open the swinging door to bring her into the court room. Cristiana knew this part. Even though she’d seen a million courtroom dramas on TV, it really didn’t feel the same when you actually were a part of it. It was quieter, less drama than the TV and a lot less people, but the process was essentially the same. This was a medium-sized courtroom, a little plain, but there Ira was, waiting in a suit at the defendant’s table. She supposed that because he was getting properly tried right now, he was allowed a suit. His trial really was taking forever, she supposed because he had several cases against him. 

Cristiana finished her oath on the Bible then waited. The prosecution came over. It was going to be fine. They were on her side. The judge was meant to be on her side. 

“Miss Ronaldo, you are spending an eighteen-month sentence at Wad Ras Prison, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re serving it for company theft?”

“Yes.” So far, so good. Easy. 

“And how do you know the defendant, Mr. Shayk?”

“We dated for six months.”

“And how did you meet?”

“At the gym that I worked at.” Cristiana felt like she was repeating herself. These were all questions that everyone knew the answer to.

“Now, during this, were you aware that Mr. Shayk was having financial trouble?”

“No.”

“Can you tell me where you were on the night of March 3rd, 2015?”

Cristiana didn’t remember specifically. Probably had just gone to work then maybe gone to visit Ira at his place. She’d been told not to lie, not remotely. “I don’t remember.”

“And you’re very certain you don’t remember?”

“I don’t remember.” Cristiana hoped he wouldn’t ask again.

“Do you ever remember bringing Mr. Shayk with you on any late trips to your workplace?”

Cristiana had, actually. She had a key to the gym and they’d gone to work out together a few times at night. Her boss knew she’d occasionally go herself, so it wasn’t like she was breaking a rule, at least she hadn’t thought she was. 

“Yes, maybe four or five times.”

“And what did you do during these late trips?”

“We worked out and went home.”

“I will remind you, you are under oath, Miss Ronaldo.”

How frustrating. She had worked out and gone home. She got it. These were still repetitive questions, questions she’d dealt with during her own trial. She’d taken him to the gym, he’d stolen nearly all the money the gym had by going into their banking accounts on the computers behind her back. She knew what happened. She knew the jury hadn’t believed her when she said she hadn’t taken money herself, that this hadn’t been her plan. She’d swore up and down that she thought she was allowed to work out at night. This was not groundbreaking.

“Look, I know he didn’t work out and go home, but I did.” Cristiana snapped. She wasn’t going to sit here and get roasted by a stupid prosecutor when she was helping their case. 

“Watch your tone, Miss Ronaldo,” the judge chided. He could shut the fuck up, Cristiana decided. 

“Okay. I’ve asked enough about the gym,” the prosecutor moved on. “Did Mr. Shayk ever tell you his job?”

“He said he worked in stocks and transfers.”

“Did you ever ask to visit his workplace?”

“We weren’t that serious! Going to the gym isn’t the same as going to a bank or a stockmarket!”

“Miss Ronaldo!” The judge was in no mood. Well, neither was she, Cristiana decided. 

“So you were unaware that Mr. Shayk was involved in illegally defrauding multiple businesses, including Santander?”

“I was not.”

The prosecutor looked frustrated. Cristiana felt just as frustrated back. She’d been told to tell the truth, and she was. What was he expecting? She understood she was here to testify against him, but she was saying all she knew. These were details that were obvious now, but they hadn’t been then. 

“One last question for Miss Ronaldo. Did Mr. Shayk ever ask to go to your workplace at night directly?”

Cristiana considered if he did. It was hard to say. The real answer was that she didn’t know, the simple action of going for a workout so beyond any specific memory. But she knew that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. 

“Yes.”

~  
“Are you coming?”

Sabi looked up from her homework. It had made so much sense after her little buzz this afternoon, she’d cracked how the math finally worked, she thought. She’d forgotten she was meant to go with Mascherano down to the small grocery closest to the jail. Zidane’s birthday was coming up. They were meant to get balloons and streamers. That was the real treat about being the driver, you were allowed to go out and about, even if you were closely monitored. She was awful spoiled to be let out sometimes. She knew how jealous so many of the other women were. 

“I’d forgotten, Masche. I’m sorry.” Sabi stood up. Was she weaving a bit? No, she didn’t think so. She’d be fine to drive, she’d had her hit a couple hours ago. 

Masche shook his head at the nickname, even though all the women used it, and led her outside to the minivan. Sabi kind of knew this was a job that any guard could do, but she supposed they liked to be kind to one inmate. 

“Just a quick trip.” Mascherano paused. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Do I not seem fine?”

“Never mind. Let’s go.”

Sabi started the minivan, still feeling pretty okay. She was quite certain that all of her high was gone by now, she should be fine. She maneuvered the van out of the parking lot and started its long crawl down the hill, feeling confident. 

“Your skin is very flushed, you know. Do you think you have a fever?” Mascherano was a good sort. He was stern and solemn, but he cared about the inmates in his own funny way. Or maybe he was concerned right now because he himself didn’t want the flu. 

“I’m perfectly fine, Masche.”

“You’re just driving very slowly.”

Was she? Sabi hadn’t been aware, but she supposed she was. They were now on the road, puttering down the highway, and Sabi realized she should pick it up by at least twenty kilometres or they would be in trouble. However, as soon as she started to speed up, she began to feel very dizzy. Her hands clenched too tightly around the wheel, and Sabi tried to loosen them a bit. They didn’t want to unclench. 

“Masche?” Her voice sounded distant, even to her own ears. Like it wasn’t her real voice, instead coming from some outside source. Suddenly, she heard him shout, lurch forward and grab the wheel, swerve the car wildly. Sabi stopped knowing what was going on at that point and closed her eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana, Ramos, Maradona, and Sabi receive some bad news.

“Hey girl, how is she?” Ivana ran her hand through her hair, anxious. 

“Not bad. She’s awake, talking normally.” Marta had been awake all night when she shouldn’t have been, worrying. This girl was going to be the death of her. 

“So what the fuck happened, Marta? How do you just, veer off the road like that?”

“She had a seizure, her temperature had spiked quite a bit. They wanted to take a blood test but she screamed and sent them off, said she didn’t need one and didn’t want the needles. The doctors are unsure if we’re looking at a seizure brought on just by her temperature or if she actually has epilepsy.”

“Why didn’t she want the needle?”

“Bad memories, I guess.” Marta was wracking her brain for reasons for why this could have happened to poor Sabi. She’d originally been sent to the hospital, along with Masche to make sure he was alright, but now she was recuperating in the small separate ward in the prison for any smaller ailments. Other inmates were allowed to visit for short periods, but Marta had asked they not crowd or overwhelm Sabi, so she’d just gone alone. Sabi seemed well now, almost too well, for having had a seizure and such a high fever a day before, although she said she didn’t feel too great and had thrown up once in Marta’s presence . Neither she nor Mascherano had been injured by the small crash, thank God. Masche had managed to grab the wheel in time and send them down the bank on the edge of the road, rather than something more devastating. Apparently, she was really jerking and frothing a bit at that point and he’d called an ambulance directly from the road without letting anyone up at the prison know first, so nobody knew where they were for quite some time. 

“She’s going to be really devastated.”

“Why’s that?” Ivana still looked concerned. 

“I do know they’re pulling her off van duty and will be assigning her a new job. I spoke briefly with Enrique. He told me they can’t risk her safety or anyone else’s in the van with her if she’s going to be having seizures.”

“Shit, she is going to be devastated.”

“She really needed the chance to go to regular places, right? She’s just so not a fucking criminal, you know what I mean? She needed those chances, those little moments to be a regular girl. It isn’t fair.” Marta looked upwards to try to stop tears that were coming, dabbing lightly at her eye so as not to muss her makeup. 

“Who do you think is going to be given the job instead? That’s the most sought-after position.”

“Don’t I know it. I don’t even know how to tell her. I hope it goes to somebody we never talk to, you know?”

“Fuck, fair.” Ivana cared a lot about Sabi too, Marta knew. Marta had a habit, though, in taking younger girls under her wing to take care of them, and Sabi had proved quite a challenge, but it was worth it. 

~

~The Ramblas, Barcelona, 5 years earlier~

“Hey baby, looking gorgeous tonight, you up to anything?”

Marta ignored this catcaller and breezed on past. It wasn’t even worth wasting her breath telling these guys to go fuck themselves. There’d always been lots of them, but it only seemed to be getting worse these days. Either guys were getting worse, or she was looking more and more like a whore every day. Or both. 

She supposed there was a certain art to dressing like a whore and Marta was confident she’d mastered this art in the classiest way possible. It was all about the boots, she’d truly decided. In any weather, the right boots could say it all. She’d gone a little overdramatic on her boots today, red thigh-highs, but she was going out to have fun, to dance with her friends, and everybody would be in next to nothing with towering heels themselves, so why not?

Marta wasn’t sorry about being a sex worker, actually. She made some good money from it and the other people she connected with, mostly dancers with a handful of other prostitutes like herself, were all angels. They had been so good at teaching her things, how to keep herself safe from dirty guys, how to disarm a man trying to attack her on the street. Everybody took care of each other, in a way Marta doubted existed in other jobs. 

Speaking of dirty guys who attacked women on the street, she could hear a ruckus over up at the next alleyway. Fucking garbage pails doing something, either to a homeless person or someone else who didn’t know how to protect themselves. Marta had a knife. She had to pass by there anyway, she’d just scare the fuck out of these gobs. It looked like two guys, she could scare two guys easily. 

“Hey, you stupid fucks, you wanna keep walking?” Marta felt a moment of sorrow when she saw who the two twats were harrassing. It was a teenage girl, probably sixteen or seventeen. Marta couldn’t tell if she was homeless, attempting to sell herself for sex, or both. Regardless, she’d been pinned down and it looked like one of the guys had been trying to get his pants down to piss on her. Fucking disgusting. Marta was feeling all the time that Barcelona was going downhill, in terms of the riffraff. 

“Fucking slut, YOU just keep walking.” The man zipped up his pants anyway, although neither moved away from the girl, the other still crouching on the ground holding her down. Marta didn’t remotely feel deterred and entered their personal space anyway, whipping out her knife. She wanted to stab the first guy right in the gut, but instead, she stepped hard on the crouching man’s hand with the stiletto heel of her boot, which probably hurt just as much with the pressure Marta was putting down on her foot. He yelped and struggled to get up, but Marta kept her foot down hard.

“YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

“Get out, walk away, you’re lucky I don’t kill you both right now.” Marta let her foot go slack, letting the guy scramble up. She’d really hurt his hand, it looked like. Good. They continued calling her a lot of names, all names she’d heard before, names she’d started to relish. Men could call her what they wanted, she’d own the label. Bitch, whore, cunt, it didn’t matter. She knew what she was. It was just a name.

“Are you alright, babe?” Marta tucked her knife back in her purse and offered her hand down to the girl. She was tall, certainly, for her age, but spindly and too thin, maybe perhaps because she had not fully grown into herself. She was black, and had a very cute but edgy haircut, her tight curly hair shaved into a wide mohawk with swirly patterns further shaved into the sides of her head. It was a good look, unique to her. Marta silently approved of this girl’s obvious care for fashion and style. 

The girl shook her head a bit, dazed, and sat up with Marta’s help. 

“Do you need me to call someone? I’ve got lots of girls who can help you out.”

“No, no.” The teenager blinked. “Who are you?”

“My name is Marta. Were you trying to turn tricks with those two?”

The girl looked very ashamed. She had been, Marta realized. Heartbreaking, really. Marta remembered the first time she’d taken money for sex, two years earlier, still barely an adult herself. She’d been so ashamed of herself too. She knew she was lucky now, she didn’t often pick up men off the streets, mostly preferring to keep an ad in a few cheap and free magazines and newspapers. 

“Hey, babe, you gotta learn to take care of yourself out here, right? What’s your name?”

“Pierretta.”

“That’s such a pretty name. Here, come on, let’s go get a burger, cool off from this.” Marta didn’t really care about dancing now. She could go dancing any day. 

Pierretta finally got to her feet. “Maybe I do need a sandwich, I don’t feel very well.”

Marta knew that feeling. She figured the girl was hungry. Nobody started hooking just for kicks. She took Pierretta’s arm and walked her to the nearest McDonald’s, figuring it was easiest to sit down here with the rest of the scuzzy crowd. “Here, get what you want, I don’t care.”

Pierretta looked dubious for a moment, before deciding on a chicken burger and an Oreo ice cream. After another moment, she went with the fries too. Good, Marta though. Fill her up. McDonald’s was cheap anyway. Marta wasn’t feeling altogether too hungry herself, especially in her tight and tiny get up, but she chose a small burger anyway. 

“Why do you want to help me?” The girl was finally starting to find her voice after being so silent the whole way to McDonald’s. She sounded less afraid now that her ordeal was over, and her voice had a little spunk to it. Good. 

“Because girls like us have to stick together, Pierretta. Look, I’ve been where you are, babe, and it’s shitty and overwhelming sometimes, but you start to learn things.”

“Aren’t you supposed to tell me that you have a terrible life and I should stop, become a better person, get away from all these slime bags?”

“I’m not going to tell you to do that, because there’s no point. I like my life well enough, even though it’s challenging sometimes. If you don’t like it, and you feel you have another way out to make ends meet, then you’re welcome to try, I know some girls truly can’t stand it and that’s their call. I also know there’s a difference for the girls who are attached to a man selling them out. But I won’t lie to you and say I hate my life because I don’t. I work on my terms, I get to look great all the time. It, well, it works for me.”

Pierretta raised her eyebrows a bit and nodded. “Oh. Can…can you tell me about the worst guys you’ve gotten? Make me feel better, right?”

“Absolutely.”

~

“You’ve got a visitor, Miss Ronaldo.” A cop opened up the door to the little jail cells meant for overnight stays. It had been peculiar, spending the night over at the police station rather than the prison. They did so because the jury had to do some deliberations and she might be needed again, so there was no point sending her all the way back up to prison for the night. Not very comfortable, it was quite a weak cot. That was really saying something, Cristiana thought, considering the state of the beds over at the prison. It was a bit of a surreal place to sleep too, as it had genuine bars like a generic prison cell you’d see on TV. She’d gotten weirdly used to the partitioned giant bedroom, at least covered up by her little piece of wall. Anyone could watch you sleep through the bars. Only Jamie really was at the right angle to watch her sleep in prison, even though everything was out in the open still. 

Cristiana sat up from the cot. It was probably her lawyer. The good news, she hoped. It was Mr. Diaz, without her mother, and Cristiana approached the bars. 

“Hello, Cristiana.”

“Mr. Diaz, good morning. I’m sorry, I look like rubbish, I’ve just woken up.”

“It’s okay. I’ve got some bad news.”

“Bad news? How?” Cristiana felt the pit in her stomach grow. 

“I spoke with the judge this morning. He said you did not show any signs of repentance or responsibility for your role in robbing the gym.”

“What does he want me to say?” Cristiana let out an abrupt sob, clinging to the bars of the cell. No. She could see where this was going. 

“He calls it willful ignorance, Cristiana. He maintains that even if you didn’t steal it yourself, which he says he cannot prove, the action of allowing him to roam the gym willfully and without apology renders you still guilty and will not be recommending an acquittal, or a retrial. He also said your hostility towards the prosecutor yesterday did not help your case.”

Cristiana felt her legs go out from under her, sliding to the ground while still clutching the bars. No, no, no. She couldn’t go back to the jail, please, God, no. 

“I’m sorry, Cristiana. They’ll be picking you up to take you back later this afternoon. Your mother is on her way.” Mr. Diaz paused. “I didn’t think he would be so harsh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair, it’s not FAIR!” Cristiana’s breathing was too quick. She knew she was going to make herself pass out, but she couldn’t regulate it. She knew how loudly she was sobbing, how the cop watching over the cell was probably looking at this and wondering if he needed to step in.

“I know it isn’t, we need to take a deep breath.”

“What did we PAY you for? This was supposed to get me out!” Cristiana was aware she was lashing out, that she was being hurtful to Mr. Diaz. Everything hurt so bad inside her, though. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, it wasn’t.

~

“It’s been a long time, eh.” Kun scuffed the ground with her shoe. Back behind the old shed, like old times. It was so hard to look Gino in the eye, and she knew he couldn’t do the same. She knew she had to tell him the truth, that he had a right to know. It was something she didn’t even want to put off anymore. She hated that Gino was probably thinking so badly of her. Well, he had a right to, but she desperately wanted to clear up the Benzema mess. 

“Yeah, long time.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t…”

Kun still refused to look up, but Gino sounded angry when he answered. “Sorry you abandoned even talking to me for no reason? I don’t understand what happened, Kun.”

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t honest.”

“And then you go and sleep around with Benz like a little slut! I just…!”

“Hey!” Kun jerked her head up. “Don’t yell at me, Gino. I did it for you.”

“How the fuck could that have been for me, Kun?” 

Kun didn’t like how Gino was acting. She knew he was hurt. But it wasn’t fair to yell at her like this, it was so very unlike him. 

“Because this is yours, Gino.” Kun flung her shirt up to show her stomach, barely convex compared to what it used to look like but just enough that she hoped he understood. She knew it was dramatic of her, to tell him this way, but that’s just how she was sometimes. 

Gino looked shocked and took a step back. Well, this would make him unhappy too, then, but at least it was truthful. “You’re…you’re…”

“It was from the first time we fucked, Gino. I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to tell you, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble. So I framed your coworker, to keep you from jail, I’m sorry.” Kun nearly felt like crying, debasing herself so much. But yet, she didn’t. Something in her stayed stronger, like she needed to show Gino she was taking care of everything.

“You did?”

“I did, I couldn’t bear getting you in trouble, Gino.” This would definitely be the hardest part to say. “I don’t know a lot about what I’m doing with my life right now, Gino. But I’m keeping it. And if you want to be a part of this, I, I mean, you have a right. I’m back with Leo, we got back together, but this baby is half yours. I want you to have a say in its life, if you want.”

Gino looked right hard at Kun, then stormed away from the shed. Kun felt a sharp sting to her chest, but it was nearly to be expected. No gratitude, no gratitude at all. 

~

“Yeah, okay, look, but you didn’t come last week either.”

“He has a playdate, the day would be half gone if we did it after and he’ll be tired.”

Sabina felt like taking the phone and smacking the receiver over and over against the wall. Enough that it would smash into a million little pieces. 

“You’re not listening, though, I can’t wait three weeks to see my fucking kid.” Sabina realized she had to be careful with that. She could get in shit if there was a guard listening, but she was livid. 

“And he’s not allowed to have friends over on the weekend? That’s what normal kids do, you know.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Sabina snapped. 

“I’ll…I’ll be honest. He says he feels uncomfortable coming up there. He says he doesn’t like the guards and that he’s bored just sitting and talking.”

Sabina felt her heart shatter, like she imagined the phone doing. Marco was being so heartless. So fucking heartless. “Marco, I…”

“He’s getting older. He knows what prison is, he’s going to start getting embarrassed, if he isn’t already. He’s going to be in school soon.”

“Marco…”

“I’m just saying, I think we need to start scaling things back. It’s been a lot out of my time, you know, taking him up every week.”

“Look, is Sergio there? Can I say hello? Please? He needs to hear his mama’s voice.”

“No, he’s not here right now, he’s with my mom. Maybe in a few days when you have money back in your account you can call him or something.” Marco hung up, leaving Sabina to cradle the phone for a minute like a baby, before slamming it down hard and marching away. FUCK Marco, he could go fuck himself and die. Everybody could go fuck themselves and die, at the moment, she decided. Except Sergio. And maybe Gwen. 

“Where the fuck are you going so fast, Ramos? Where’ve you got to be?”

Fucking Christ. Pique had picked the wrong fucking day to make one of her snippy, un-funny comments meant to rile her up while she was passing by. 

“You fucking real right now, you giant fucking oaf?” Sabina spun on her heel and stared Pique down. She was a bitch and she wasn’t funny. She was spoiled and always got everything she wanted. Her family pampered the shit out of her in here and her girlfriend loved her. She had no fucking right to ever think she could talk down or talk back to any of the other girls living here, and yet she did. Constantly. 

“Christ, what the hell’s wrong with you today?”

“You’re what’s wrong with me, you fucking cunt!”

“Puta!” Pique took hold of Sabina’s shirt collar. That was enough of that for Sabina, who promptly kneed Pique in the gut. Pique shouted and backed up before regaining composure, coming for Sabina straight with a fist to the face. It hurt, but Sabina was determined to hurt her further. She knew Pique knew well how to fight, how to hurt people. But Sabina had been raised on nothing but dirty fighting, something Pique did not excel at as well. Pique may fight direct, with punches and kicks, but Sabina would rather go for places like the eyes. She grabbed Pique’s arm as she pulled it away and bent it back, which was enough to send both of them into a scrabbling mess of curse words and fists on the ground, both gaining and losing the upper hand in seconds. They were doing this right in the middle of the hall, and more and more ladies were running over to watch, to shout and jeer and take sides. Sabina hated, for just a moment, how predictable this was, how much people loved a Pique-Ramos fight. Some people took bets on when the next fight would be, and often on who would win. 

Guards were pulling them apart now, while they both kept screaming and spitting at each other. Sabina felt some relief from the fight. Her anger was still filling her whole body, but at least the overflow was gone. 

“NO, NO, DON’T FUCKING MAKE ME GO DOWN THERE, DON’T MAKE ME GO, I HAVE CONJUGAL THIS WEEK, I HAVE CONJUGAL THIS WEEK, NO, NO!”

“Should have thought of that before you decided to fight, hm?” A guard debased Pique with no sign of emotion.

Pique was screeching while three guards tried to subdue her with handcuffs. Sabina felt immense satisfaction while a single guard cuffed her. So she wouldn’t get to fuck her girlfriend. Pique got conjugal visits once every eight weeks, she knew, six weeks if she’d been good, so never six weeks. Pique got near enough to Sabina when the guards dragged her up and spat in her face, her rage shaking through her body, but Sabina didn’t even care at that point as the spit dripped down her cheek onto her front. If she didn’t get to see her son, than that bitch didn’t get to see anybody either. 

~  
Jamie wished she felt better. She wished she hadn’t cried and cried all alone in her empty bedroom all night, only to wake up exhausted and extra cranky. It was so stupid, she was a tougher girl than all this. She’d never been like this in the clink, not even the day she arrived. She guessed it was because she rarely let herself make serious connections in this hellhole, only friends to spend the day with. She thought they were great girls, but she knew, at the end of the day, that once everybody left and spread out back to their old lives, all the connections would fade. Nobody would stay forever friends, or at least, she didn’t want to stay forever friends with anybody in here. Until she’d been stupid enough to catch feelings for the strange, awkward but beautiful Ronaldo. 

She was still sitting tucked up in her bed, having done her job in the kitchens for the day, trying to focus on a crossword. She didn’t know if it was her bad headspace or just a too difficult one, but she was getting frustrated with it too. Puzzle games were usually one of the easiest things to do in prison, the books were cheaper than most of the other frivolous items and it was easy to ignore everyone while doing one. 

There were people going in and out of the bedrooms quite a bit, so Jamie didn’t notice particularly when the door opened or closed. She didn’t notice at all, actually, that Ronaldo had slunk into the bedrooms, sitting back on her own bed. Seconds later, she got under the covers and turned away towards the wall, even though it was only mid-afternoon. Jamie felt quite shocked. 

“Ronaldo?”

Ronaldo didn’t move, still staring blankly at the wall. Jamie didn’t know shit about what Ronaldo’s case was about, but clearly, it had gone grossly wrong for her. She’d seemed so confident. She’d told Jamie she’d only see her once more, when she went to pick up her things and get discharged from prison. That this was a done deal. Obviously, it hadn’t been. 

“Hey, Ronaldo, alright there, yeah?" Jamie put down her crossword book and went over to Ronaldo, placing a light hand on her shoulder.

There was a whimper from Ronaldo, then a sob. Classic. Why wouldn’t Ronaldo be crying? 

“I’m so embarrassed, Jamie.”

Jamie lay both her hands on Ronaldo’s arm, trying to be comforting. “Why?”

“I told everybody I wasn’t guilty, that I was getting out of here, that you’d all never see me again, like I was better than you all, or something. And here I am.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jamie didn’t know what to say of comfort. “Don’t be embarrassed, shit happens.”

“I really really thought I was getting out. I really did, Jamie. I feel so ashamed of myself for that, so ashamed for thinking I wasn’t guilty. I see now that I am.”

Jamie didn’t know what her heart was telling her. God had intervened for her, put Ronaldo back in her lap, but at Ronaldo’s expense. Ronaldo genuinely thought she hadn’t done anything wrong, Jamie could see, and it was going to be a hard slog coming to terms with her guilt. That was something Jamie couldn’t relate to, to be honest. She always knew when she was doing something she shouldn’t.

“Can you sit up for me, Ronaldo?” Jamie hauled Ronaldo up to sitting, putting her arm around her. “I’m sorry you didn’t get out. I know how bad you wanted it.” 

“And then I feel even guiltier, Jamie, you know? I made such a stink, wanted people to think I deserved to be the one let out, but there’s so many people who should get out before me. The women with little kids, and stuff.”

“You’re allowed to feel what you feel.” Jamie wanted to tell Ronaldo what she was feeling. It was so fucking hard. How do you tell someone in this state that you’re happy they’re back? You couldn’t, and Jamie felt like kicking herself. 

“I really really thought that I’d be out of here in a few months. Now I’ve got months and months to go. Christmas is coming up. My birthday is like a month later. Suddenly everything is looming and awful and I don’t want to spend any of those moments here, I can’t, I can’t.”

“I know, Ronaldo.” Jamie swallowed. She had to do something, make this horrible day for Ronaldo better. She used to be all about action when she was younger. She used to beguile men in minutes. Ronaldo was looking at her now, watching her, studying her face. Her own was a little drippy and snotty from tears, but Jamie wouldn’t have Ronaldo any other way, she decided. Just a little balls, Jamie shouted to herself. Just having a little balls would help her now. Ronaldo was still looking at her so intently, waiting for her words of wisdom. 

Instead, she finally caught Ronaldo in a kiss, sweet and slow. Jamie carefully cupped Ronaldo’s face, refusing to let go from the kiss. This was right, this was the way to do it. This was the way to tell Ronaldo how she felt. Jamie felt waves of relief, that Ronaldo was accepting the kiss, even relishing in it. Ronaldo finally let her lips slip off Jamie’s, but she stayed close, wanting comfort. Jamie wrapped both arms around Ronaldo, a gesture that didn’t come easy to her, but felt better, more real, this time. Like maybe it was okay.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana and Jamie solidify their relationship, as an outbreak of head lice hits the prison.

“What now, Jamie?” Cristiana stayed pressed against Jamie’s warm chest, lightly wrapping her fingers around a lock of Jamie’s hair. 

“I wanted to tell you that I liked you for awhile, you know. I can be here for you.” Jamie bit her lip.

Cristiana sighed a bit. She should tell the truth. She hoped Jamie wouldn’t be too angry with Gwen. “I knew you liked me. Gwen guessed that I liked you and she told me. Don’t be cross with her.”

Jamie only shrugged and laughed a bit ruefully. “That sounds like Gwen. It doesn’t matter now, does it, Ronaldo?”

“I guess not.” Cristiana played with the edge of her shirt. “You should really call me Cristiana now. Or Cris. Ronaldo sounds stupid.”

“Okay, Cristiana.” It seemed just too right that Jamie would go for the more formal name. Cristiana was not even remotely surprised.

“Look at me. Back in orange. I told myself it wouldn’t matter because I’d be out of these jumpsuits altogether.” Cristiana continued picking at her shirt. “I know I can go get my spare outfit. Go blend in with everybody else again.”

That was when Jamie kissed her again, catching her mouth before Cristiana could complain further. Cristiana wondered if anyone was watching, if anybody cared, if this was the sort of thing that would make news amongst the prison. It felt so good, though, so good to have someone care about her in here, better than she thought it would make her feel to return. She’d dreaded having to see Jamie again, to come back with her tail between her legs. It would be hard to come back to everyone, especially as Cristiana had worked so hard to try and make herself seem hardier than that, that she could just seamlessly go back to her old life and forget everyone. But that dream was gone, and Jamie was in the here and now. Cristiana felt a touch of guilt, like maybe Jamie was only a substitute for feeling good in place of freedom, but maybe that wasn’t even the case. She had truly liked Jamie. 

“Gwen talks to me about things too, you know.” Jamie mumbled a bit into Cristiana’s ear, after pulling out from the kiss again. “She said you’ve fooled around with her. Let’s take our minds off this shit day and go blow off some steam.”

Jamie seemed to get it, which relieved Cristiana. She was there to make Cristiana feel better today, she understood that Cristiana wasn’t in a place to give as much emotionally today as she needed to receive. 

“We didn’t fool around too much, I’m probably really rubbish.”

“I’ve never been with a girl, Cristiana, can we just run with it?” Jamie shrugged her shoulders slightly, her voice suddenly needier than Cristiana expected. It made Cristiana feel a little better. Had Jamie thought of her in the shower the same way? Did she ever touch herself and pretend it was Cristiana’s own hand instead? 

“Okay, let’s go, make me feel better about today.” Cristiana stood up. “Should we go to the chapel?”

“What the fuck? That’d just be fuckin’ creepy, don’t you think? Let’s just go to the showers, come on.” Jamie took Cristiana’s hand and led her out of the bedrooms down towards the bathrooms, now with a purpose. Cristiana had to hoof it a bit to keep up being dragged along.

“I thought it was a little weird too, but that’s where Gwen said nobody went.”

“Gwen can keep her creepy spot to have sex, they don’t usually check the bathrooms. If they do, what are they going to tell us to do? They’ll tell us to stop and to get some clothes on, we’ll probably get a talking to, it won’t be the end of the world.”

Cristiana yearned slightly for the safety of the chapel, the risk of being caught sounding grossly unappealing and embarrassing, but Jamie didn’t seem to think so, pulling Cristiana’s horrible orange top over her head as soon as they were safely in a shower stall. It had been warm in court and she’d not bothered with an undershirt like she normally did, and Jamie looked pleased at having her work cut in half. They’d both seen each other naked, and Cristiana was sure by now that they were both thinking sexual things when looking at each other, but this was different now. Jamie took off Cristiana’s ugly granny bra and looked delighted.

“You’ve got great tits, you know.”

“Yeah, well, they’re fake.” Cristiana said it lightly, shaking herself a bit to get her out of the shock of what they were doing. She pulled Jamie’s own overshirt off, carefully placing it over the side of the stall, then taking her own shirt and bra out of Jamie’s hands and laying them with it. She would be damned if she was going to let her clothes touch that floor. Jamie was already stripping off the rest of her clothes, and Cristiana loved how soft and full Jamie’s body was, she really did. Her thighs looked muscular and strong, and god, they were big, but after that, her tummy and bum and arms and breasts were all soft and chubby. Cristiana wanted to kiss them, but she supposed she’d have time for that. She’d never dated anyone that wasn’t rock-hard like she was when it came to fitness and muscles, and she knew even Gwen was tight and trim and kept fit. This body was so different and Cristiana realized she was having a very new appreciation for other human forms that she’d not really had before. 

“Yeah, well, they still look good. Pants, Cristiana?” Jamie ran her fingers down Cristiana’s side. Cristiana could tell that saying her name still felt foreign to Jamie, but she was trying. She pulled her pants and underwear off, grateful that the pant leg was wide enough to pull them off without having to take off her shoes. Jamie was also still in her shoes, and they both looked at this and had a little laugh, which cut some of the rapidly building tension.

“I’m not setting a foot on this floor.” Cristiana saw that Jamie clearly kept her lower regions completely shaved, but she’d been doing it too ever since she’d gotten ahold of a cheap and shitty pack of leg razors in the commissary. They were truly dreadful razors, but she supposed she was lucky the prison had them at all, and she was grateful. Jamie laughed a little again, then decidedly put a hand on Cristiana’s ass, then reaching with the same hand to pull Cristiana’s thigh’s apart from behind. 

“Should we get the shower on?”

“Why bother? Then a guard will hear us with it on and know something us up.” Jamie interrupted Cristiana with more kisses before she could keep talking, reaching down with her other hand to touch Cristiana. Cristiana had been so passive with Gwen, and now she was being passive with Jamie, just melting into the touch and whining. Cristiana wanted to take some control, touch Jamie like she’d fantasized so much about, so she straightened herself up and stroked Jamie back where she knew it felt good. Jamie made the same whiny noise back, and Cristiana actually thought it might be even shriller. Cristiana realized there was no proper way for them to do more than this, other than rub each other off in a dry shower stall, but they didn’t need to go all the way right now. Cristiana did feel better, a lot better about having to stay if she was going to have Jamie by her side. 

“Cristiana, yes, yes.” Jamie was still making a plethora of noises, before reaching down with her free hand to grab Cristiana’s and make her push her hand upwards. Jamie wanted the hood of her clit pushed up. Cristiana couldn’t bear the thought of her own hood being pushed up, far too sensitive to the point that she knew it would hurt, but she did so for Jamie and she made more screechy sounds.

There was a noise as someone tromped into the bathroom, and Cristiana stilled, but Jamie momentarily pulled her hand away and directed Cristiana’s face back to looking in her eyes. 

“No, baby, it’s just someone takin’ a leak, don’t worry, don’t worry.”

“But they’ll hear us.”

“And they can be jealous.” 

“Okay, okay.” Cristiana went back to her rubbing, trying to slip a little tongue into their kissing like Jamie already was. She’d decided she wanted Jamie to come first, although that wasn’t too altruistic. She knew she was slow, although she was closer than she thought she would be at this point of being touched. Either women turned her on more or they just knew what they were doing better, Cristiana decided. 

“Oh, OH, OH, Cristiana, OOHHHHH!” Jamie was coming, leaning her body into Cristiana to stay upright, a quivering mess at Cristiana’s hand. Cristiana felt elated. She’d made a girl orgasm. It felt so fucking good to do it, especially considering how rarely a man had made her orgasm. And Jamie was being particularly loud and brassy about it, which made Cristiana wonder with half a smile if she was playing it up for the person in the toilet stall. Cristiana couldn’t gauge when to stop touching, when the orgasm was going to end, but Jamie didn’t seem to care when she kept rubbing, slowing to light little circles with her fingertips. She was breathier, fully leaning against Cristiana’s body now, her neck and chest red from the orgasm and her eyes a little glazed over, but Cristiana knew Jamie was on her own mission to properly return the favour to her now. She shifted a bit, before sliding her first two fingers into Cristiana, keeping her thumb on the clit. It went easy, Cristiana could feel how wet she was, and she let her body relax to let Jamie in all the way. Jamie knew where to press her fingers, and fuck, it felt good still coupled with the attention Jamie was giving her with her thumb. Cristiana cursed herself a million times over for never having guessed that girls would know how to fuck better than boys, that they actually knew what felt good. 

Cristiana didn’t know when she suddenly hit her peak, but she knew she was begging Jamie to keep going, that she was trying to fuck Jamie’s fingers as hard as she could. Her hand had fallen away from Jamie’s pussy to hold onto both her shoulders to keep steady, until she knew she’d ridden the pleasure until the end.

“Stop, stop, I’m good now.” Cristiana always felt a little sore and immediately oversensitive after coming. She was amazed Jamie didn’t. Didn’t seem fair that Jamie could keep going right away. 

Jamie took her hand away and kissed Cristiana a few more times instead, before pulling away to carefully look over Cristiana’s face. Cristiana noted that Jamie’s face was covered in freckles, across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. They were light, but they were there. Cristiana had never noticed them before. 

“Hey you, let’s go clean ourselves up, okay?” Jamie was wrapping things up. A very Jamie thing to do. 

“Okay, sure, yeah.” Cristiana ran a hand through her hair and reached for her pants. She wasn’t sure what they’d do next, she didn’t know if they’d go their separate ways for the afternoon or stick by each other’s side, she could never tell with Jamie, but she didn’t need to know everything. They’d take it bit by bit with each other. 

~

“You know, I still don’t know why anybody didn’t tell me. Gwen, why didn’t you tell any of us? You told Ramos.” Dani crossed her arms over her chest and sulked. 

Gwen scratched her head. She always blew secrets a little too easy, she’d been pleased the secret of Cris and Jamie had only been as far as Sabina. “Hey, I didn’t want to spread rumours, I did good. Look, it might have gotten ruined if I’d said something.”

Gwen privately felt a lot of vindication. Cris and Jamie had been cuddled up all week, and she personally felt it was partly due to her. She felt bad that Cris didn’t get out of prison like she wanted, but it was nice to have her back, and nicer to see Jamie seem a bit more real, a bit more personable. They were good for each other, Gwen decided. 

“Isn’t it not up to us to know if it’s not our issue anyway?” Modric was sitting on the floor, knees up to her chest, hugging her knees. It had been an interesting integration process with Modric, convincing her to come hang out with her group rather than Rakitic’s. She hadn’t wanted to go, had tried to say thank you, but no thanks, but Gwen had been persistent. She knew Messi didn’t want Modric there, thought Modric brought nothing to the table. She’d chosen Suarez instead as who she really wanted to be part of her group, although Gwen couldn’t really fathom why. Suarez barked at everyone, was harsh and nasty. Modric was way too pleasant, much like Rakitic, and Gwen personally felt she would be a nicer addition any day. It had been a stroke of luck, really, that Messi had decided Aguero was back in her good books, pushing out any space for anyone else. Rakitic was upset about it, but there were no other options. Ramos’ group it was. Modric wasn’t completely comfortable with them all yet, but she was starting to speak her mind a little more.

Gwen scratched her head a little bit again, leaning her head on Sabina’s shoulder. It was nice having her back after her squabble with Pique and her stay in the dungeon. 

“It doesn’t matter, though, because they worked it out? Where are they, anyway?” 

“Probably off fucking somewhere. Let them have their honeymoon period. Especially if it saves us all some Ronaldo-grief, God only knows why I let her join us, Christ, she is annoying.” Sabina kept her arm close around Gwen, being extra-protective after being let out. Not that Gwen really minded, but she’d hung around extra closely, and snapped at anyone who even glanced at Gwen wrong. Gwen wished Sabina would be gentler to Cris. She knew Sabina didn’t hate Cris, she really didn’t, but she still wasn’t very forgiving. Didn’t really get her very well. 

“Okay, I’m going to be the first to say it, Jesus Christ, why the hell are you scratching your head so much, Bale?” Kroos spoke sharply. Kroos could only ever take so much before snapping, and Gwen knew she would focus on one thing rather repetitively until it drove her crazy. Gwen hadn’t really noticed she was scratching her head a lot, and she guessed no one else really had either. Gwen let her hand drop to her lap. 

“Oh, I dunno, I guess dry scalp, or whatever.”

Kroos got up and walked over to the shitty old sofa Gwen and Sabina were resting on, reaching right over and tugging Gwen’s hair out of its bun. 

“Hey, puta! Give me the hair tie!” Gwen scrambled to get it back. Kroos put it on her own wrist and picked up a clump of Gwen’s hair. 

“Kroos, leave it alone, okay?” Sabina looked annoyed. “I think it’s the shampoo, I’ve had dry scalp too recently, I just haven’t picked at my head. It’s been bugging me, though.”

Kroos ignored them both, moving more clumps of hair around on Gwen’s head, inspecting her scalp. Gwen rolled her eyes. This was so dumb, but she just let her, to get it over with. Kroos wasn’t being very gentle, tugging at her hair more than necessary, but she didn’t complain. That would draw out the process. 

“HA! I found one, I found one, that’s a nit! That’s a lice, look, someone, come see this, come look!”

Gwen couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but soon Dani, Pepa, and Modric were all crowded around her head, staring at the damning pest, nodding and mumbling in agreement. Kroos dropped the strand of hair she was holding in horror, after her initial excitement, and backed away from Gwen, like she had the plague. Dani and Modric also were, although it didn’t matter to Pepa and her nearly bald head, who just looked kind of amused. 

“Is it really there? You’re not serious!” Gwen hadn’t had lice since she was little in grade school. It had been a real pain to get rid of. Sabina was being dead quiet, her face wrinkled up a little in disgust. It dawned on both Gwen and Kroos that only moments ago Sabina had said her head had been itchy all week too, and all heads were now turned to her. 

“What? What are you all looking at me for!”

“Ramos, one of you gave the other lice, no offense. We might all have it.”

“Well, not me.” Pepa interjected needlessly.

“Fuck off!” Sabina looked supremely cranky, but admittedly, Gwen felt cranky too. The injustice of getting an ailment reserved for children. And such an embarrassing one.

“I was around Cris all this past week, sat next to her, put my head on her shoulder. Someone should tell her.” Gwen felt guilty and shameful. 

“Great, so Ronaldo and Jamie both have it, real cute, they’ve been fucking like rabbits.” Ramos threw up her hands. 

“Should we tell someone?”

“Fucked if I know! Someone go to the library and see if there’s any home remedies to get rid of them, quick, go!”

~

~Cardiff University, Wales, three years earlier~

“You know, I’m glad you texted me back, I was so afraid you just wanted to hang and have fun at a party, but you know, that’s it, right?” Gwen shifted to her side to look at Chibuzo, blinking at her softly and sleepily. She was fucking exhausted. 

“I’m not really a fool around sort of girl. I know I rather acted like it that night. I hadn’t really made out with anyone else, though.”

Gwen still couldn’t believe what had just happened. Had she really just lost her virginity, to this absolutely beautiful girl? Was this real? Everybody was right about university, she decided, you got into all sorts of trouble, good trouble, that you’d never think of doing in high school. It was about finding yourself, she supposed, and maybe she was on her way to that. It had been right, and not scary, to have sex with Chibuzo, and god, it was good. She hadn’t been anxious, it was just what happened naturally. Now they were both laying lazily under Gwen’s sheets, and Gwen wasn’t even fretful that they were plaid sheets meant for boys, or that her room was covered in Tottenham posters, or any of it. 

“I mean, pretty good study visit.”

“What are we doing studying so early in the year anyway?” Chibuzo laughed. “I thought you knew what study date meant.”

“I guess I didn’t.” That surprised Gwen a bit. Chibuzo had come over with the express plan of fucking her, or at least fooling around with her. Made her feel even better. 

“I love your naivety, it’s cute.” 

Gwen stuck her tongue out at Chibuzo, which made her laugh. Everything felt so nice and good and warm. After watching enough sitcoms, she’d been under the impression that first-time sex was meant to be awkward, but it didn’t feel awkward to Gwen. She’d known well-enough what to do. 

“Do you have a hair tie?” Chibuzo sat up a little bit. Gwen had troubling tearing her eyes off Chibuzo’s tits when she did so, but reached over to her desk crammed next to her bed and found one in her pen cup, handing it to Chibuzo. She gently gathered up all Gwen’s hair and put it in a big loose bun on top of her head, like she’d done the first night she’d met. 

“Was my hair being a bit of a pain? I know it gets everywhere.” Gwen didn’t want to say she didn’t really want her hair up. 

“No, I just wanted to see your face better.”

“Aw, no, my face isn’t nice, don’t like it.”

Chibuzo made an unhappy face. “Hey, don’t put yourself down like that. I noticed you did that the first time we met but I thought that was the alcohol talking a bit.”

“But I’m not, though.”

“I mean it, don’t be like that. You are beautiful, I’m attracted to you, I don’t want to hear you keep shitting on yourself. I want to see your face because I like it.”

Gwen felt surprised. She’d never expected anyone to say they liked her face, because she hated it so much. But here this stunning girl was, saying she was beautiful to. Gwen internally vowed to try and keep her hair up around Chibuzo. She’d hated herself for a long time, maybe it was time to try and get over that. 

~

“Oh, there you are, ter Stegen, could you come with me for a few minutes?”

Maria was getting very sick of people catching her off guard to talk to her. She knew she couldn’t say no to Enrique, but he must have been wandering the halls on one of his rare rounds, looking for her. He didn’t leave his office very much, but he usually breezed through the halls once or twice a day, pointing out things that he wanted fixing that nobody cared about. 

“Okay.” Maria said simply, unsure of what else she could really say. She followed Enrique, and she was surprised that he brought her to Zidane’s office, going over to stand behind him, gesturing her to sit. She sat. 

“We have something we want to offer you, and we are offering it on extreme good faith.”

“Yes?” Maria wondered if she wouldn’t like where this is going. 

“We are looking for someone to take the position of van driver for the other inmates, and other chores that need to be done. You will be removed from your position of janitorial duties, but this will be a trial period.” Zidane looked very serious, but then, he always did. 

“Oh.” Maria didn’t know what to say. She could follow a Spanish conversation okay, but she was never a chatty person, particularly not in her native tongue. She didn’t know what they wanted her to say, but she didn’t even know what she was feeling herself. It was Sabi’s job she was being offered. The job she could no longer have because of her seizure. She was both surprised and unsurprised she was being offered the position. Surprised because she was considered a dangerous inmate, unsurprised because she’d proven over the past four years that she was unflappable. 

“Is that something we can trust you with?”

“What is Roberto going to do now?” Maria fretted internally. 

“She will take over your position.”

Maria felt awful. She knew she couldn’t really say no. But she also knew she had the worst job in the whole prison, and that she was frequently tasked with doing brutal things like cleaning up the toilets. It was a huge job, in general, and she could never do it all herself, although she always tried. 

“Um, okay.” 

“Excellent. We’ll let you know in a couple days when we’ll train you on it.” Enrique got up and opened the door for Maria, who left silently. Completely not what Maria was expecting, and rather awful too. Sounded about right. 

~

“Look, I’m really fucking swamped in here, Geri, it’s been an absolute nightmare. Do you know how many cases of fucking lice I’m getting, with everyone asking me to get rid of it? Nobody wants to tell the guards what’s going on, and honestly, it’s making me cringe at touching anything in here! My entire space is getting fucked up!”

Geri growled under her breath. Marta’s hair was pulled back into a very tight bun perched on her head, pulled so tight she could swear it was pulling the rest of her face with it. Clearly, she did not yet have it and was trying very hard not to. “Yeah, I know, I’m pretty sure I have it too, I need you to help!”

“I can’t help, Geri! You need kits for this kind of stuff, delousers! I don’t have nit combs here, even, because nobody thought that was going to be an issue! They deal with all that when you get admitted! I get why nobody wants to tell but at this point, it’s a fucking epidemic!”

Geri scratched hard at her head. She was going to lose her goddamn mind. She literally could not think from scratching her head so much and she felt like she was going to explode any second. “Give me the electric razor.”

“Geri, no.”

“Give me the razor, Marta.”

“You can’t have it!” Marta grabbed it out of the wall socket and scrambled over to the other side of the salon. Rafa was looking similarly stressed to Marta as she gingerly tried to look over someone’s scalp, but looked up, weary of the scene unfolding. 

“GIVE ME THE RAZOR, MARTA! I AM GOING TO LOSE MY GODDAMN SHIT!”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Geri? You want to shave your head? You can’t, please, come on, it’s your hair!”

“What do I care! Who am I impressing in here!”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Geri considered this. Shakira had been upset when she’d not been able to come for their conjugal visit, and bitterly told Geri off, but Geri had been repenting and consoling her constantly over the phone. Would Shakira be upset about this, of all things? Shakira had eight million pounds of hair, she had enough for the both of them, she decided. In some ways, Geri now felt a little bit of relief at not having her three hours in private with Shaki. She might have already had it. She could have given it to Shakira, and lord knows that would have been a fiasco, particularly considering how much hair she did have.

“Yeah, she’ll survive, give it here, Marta.”

Marta looked very sour to the whole idea, but eventually walked back and handed the razor over. “It’s your body, I guess.”

“Thank you.” Geri plugged the razor in and flicked it on. “I’ll need some help in the back.”

“Yeah, okay. Please don’t butcher your scalp.” Marta tossed a hand up, like she was just, done with the entire situation. Like she was tired of arguing. 

It wasn’t actually all that bad, once it was all done and dusted and Geri was trying to blow little pieces of hair out of her eyes and face. Geri reckoned she liked it more than when she had longer hair, although it wasn’t her favourite look. Already, though, her head felt much better, which was a relief, a huge relief to the clarity of her thinking. Marta looked highly unimpressed, but Geri knew she wouldn’t understand. Her hair was her crown, and that was okay, but it just didn’t matter to Geri that way. 

“Thanks, I should get going. Good luck with all the girls.” Geri glanced at the huddle of woman sitting in the plastic waiting chairs, all looking grossly overwhelmed at what Geri had just done to solve her problem. But it didn’t matter. Now everyone else was going to suffer, and she felt great. 

~

“So what have they decided to do?” Kun scratched the middle of her head. Everyone was staying quiet, refusing to go near each other at the lunch table, heads positioned straight forward. Kun figured she’d had a better chance of not catching it on her head, but no luck. It was like the hair she had had been a landing strip for the nasty nits anyway. She knew Leo was going silently crazy, staying vacant on the subject but constantly scratching at her poor scalp. 

“I mean, it’s obvious we all fucked up by letting it spread and not telling anyone. Nobody knows where it originated.” Leo mumbled, not wanting to speak too loudly about it. “I think they’re going to strip everyone’s beds and wash them a couple times over the next few days, and I think they’re bringing in a bunch of that de-licing hair wash stuff, after that, I dunno.”

Kun glanced around the room. Most of the women were still itching, but you could see the chosen few who were desperately trying not to get it, all crowded at one table instead of spread amongst the normal table arrangement. Maria and Ivana hadn’t, and they both had their hair tied back in tight French braids that Maria had done for them. Marta still didn’t, and a few others, but most had lost out.

“They’re mad because they know it’s because we’re all, y’know, screwing each other. That’s why it passes on.” Leo still kept her voice low. 

“Ah, the homosexual’s disease, of course.”

That made Leo smile a little, as she wiped her face with her paper napkin. “I’m all done. Are you good?”

“Yeah.” Other than the hair situation, Kun didn’t feel too badly. She’d gotten back the test results that she was indeed pregnant, and she’d been pulled into Enrique’s office to talk about it, to see if she wanted to get an abortion. He was all very sympathetic, promising Benzema would be fully prosecuted, and so on, but he hadn’t been entirely happy when she said she wanted to keep it. He said he’d speak to her soon about finding a proper solution that was best for her and the baby, and told her to just try and take it easy for now, to not spread this with the other inmates. She could tell he was really stressed, but that was fine with her. Of course, she knew she was quite a bit further along than he thought, probably four months by now, so he’d better find a solution quick, but regardless, she was happy to just rest, like he had suggested, with Leo. 

They wandered off to the bedrooms, because there was genuinely very little else to do. They’d put a ban on doing most of the jobs for the day except for ones that really still needed doing, like cooking and janitorial work. Everyone was bored and tense and on edge, wanting to keep to themselves, which was fine with Kun. Leo liked the quiet. They could go have a cuddle if none of the guards noticed, and it didn’t matter to them. They both had it, there was nothing further to be spread. Kun liked this new Leo. She was still, well, Leo, but Kun could see she was trying to be a little better, a little more warm and attentive, even if she was still fucking Neymar.

“Ladies.” Roccuzzo stepped into the bedrooms, her own hair pulled up in a tense and unforgiving bun, when it was usually in a looser bun or a long braid. “We’ve got an announcement to make. While delousing kits are being brought in as quickly as possible, and everyone will receive treatment, we do need to get a handle on this. Everyone’s bedding, towels, and clothes need to be washed under the hot cycle, and everyone needs to get their treatment, and we should be rid of all this,” Roccuzzo waved her hand. “In a few days.”

“Get to the point, Roccuzzo.” An inmate from across the room snapped. Kun bristled a bit. Roccuzzo was a good guard, the ladies here shouldn’t try to push her around.

“Everyone needs to turn in their uniforms and bedding for washing. We’ll be needing extra hands in the laundry room if we want to get this done efficiently and get everyone’s clothes back.”

“Wait, Roccuzzo, what the fuck do you mean?” Leo sat up from where she was resting on Kun’s bed. Kun knew Leo could get away with swearing only at Roccuzzo. Other guards would tell her off but Roccuzzo wouldn’t notice or care.

“I’m really sorry, ladies, the powers that be want everyone’s clothes now. They’re going to try and bring in some disposable outfits as quickly as possible.”

There was a loud rustling, and a lot of voices. Everyone was complaining, arguing. Nobody wanted to be in their underwear. Kun didn’t like that either. Her belly was completely evident now, but she was still able to hide it underneath her clothes, it being baggy enough anyway. She heard herself protesting in unison with the rest of the women, bleating whatever they were. 

“I’m quite sorry.” Roccuzzo looked unhappy. A few other guards were arriving as backup, to make sure everybody stripped off to their underwear. It was such a terrible indignity. Finally, someone caved and pulled their shirt off, chucking it into the middle of the floor. People were still complaining, but that seemed to be what everyone needed, angrily ripping off their clothes. Leo looked infuriated but stripped off too. Kun felt bad. Leo was self-conscious, she knew. Leo had tits that were the massive, and it was sexy as hell when they were alone, but Leo didn’t like to draw attention to them otherwise. She hoped no one would notice the belly she’d grown, and she supposed she could say she just got fat, but it was definitely there. 

“This is fucking bullshit, just fucking bullshit.” Geri was muttering to herself as she stripped off. You could buy a plain black sports bra in the commissary, and she’d had the foresight to do so, as they were better than the horrible granny bras. A few women were wearing them, but generally, they weren’t. The granny bras were more comfortable, if uglier. She struck a very imposing sight after she’d dumped all her clothes off and stood angrily in front of the pile. Her newly shorn head and well-muscled body, paired with her face that looked ready to throw a fit, were making her look highly menacing, which seemed to at least be distracting the other ladies and keeping everyone from totally losing their shit. It was also drawing away from Leo’s tits and her own tummy, so that was worth something.

“Da Silva, I mean it, let’s get it off, nobody wants this.” Giroud, the new guard, was arguing with Neymar, who had her arms folded across her chest, defiant.

“Don’t wanna.”

“Let’s go, come on.”

“No!”

“Da Silva!”

Neymar continued to look particularly angry and defiant, before chucking all her clothes off, stalking away from Giroud, stark naked. She hadn’t been wearing her underwear, at all, and Kun guessed it was because it was ugly and Neymar hated it. Kun was not remotely surprised that Neymar had been doing this, and Leo sighed heavily as everyone else broke into laughter.

“She’s going to get in shit.”

“I told her that was a bad idea, as much as I liked seeing her tits bounce around.” Leo shook her head. “She’ll be fine, but she won’t like the laughter.”

~

~Barcelona, 14 years earlier~

“There we go, you’ll all good for the day, Leona, easy peasy like usual, right?” Dr. Vidal gently wiped the spot of injection to clean it. “Do you want a piece of tape for it, Leona?”

He always asked, and Leo always said no. She shook her head and pulled her shirt sleeve back down, jumping off the examination table. 

“How’s the football going?”

“It’s good.” Leo felt helpless on what else to say to him. He asked that every day too. Was he expecting a new answer?

“Good, good.” 

Leo left to go back out to the waiting room where her mother was. She was glad that this only took about ten minutes out of both their days every day. They both had a lot to do and neither of them liked wasting time.

“Practice starts in half an hour, let’s hoof it.” Mama got up. 

Leo nodded and followed Mama out to the car. Her legs were still hurting and she hoped they wouldn’t be too much of a bother at practice. She had a lot she wanted to get done today, to make Coach proud. 

Or really, just to make herself and her family proud. She knew she was in a very good spot. The cost of her treatment years ago had been debilitating the family, which was hounding Leo with guilt. She was completely prepared to be tiny for the rest of her life, doomed to her fate, but Mama and Papa began reaching out to organizations to see if anyone would be a benefactor because she was talented. Leo had been shocked that Mama was willing to use her love of football to try and help her, because Mama had never liked how much she was always outside with her ball. It seemed to be the only way, but it was still hard because she was a girl. One of the Argentine teams had even said they would have helped if she were a boy, which stung. 

So Mama had started trying to ask elsewhere, across in Europe. Anyone that had a female team, a good female team with lots of money, one that won trophies and might have a shot of actually wanting a fresh new player with talent. To everyone’ shock, it had been Barcelona. It had been such a far place to move to, but Leo internally had been so excited. Her siblings had been angry, very angry at leaving all their friends behind, their family had wept, but Leo understood that she would become the very best girl footballer, make them all proud. She’d get tall and strong and her bones would be strong and she’d prove to everyone that they hadn’t wasted their time, their money, their lives on her.

“Are your leg muscles still hurting?” Mama seemed to know what was Leo’s mind. Muscle problems were a big side effect of the hormone therapy she was on. It was frustrating. 

“No, they’re fine.”

“Okay.” Mama looked less than convinced, but started the car. “Score some goals today for us.”

“Mama,” Leo chided while laughing a bit. “We score lots of goals in practice.”

~

“This is going to be hellish to sleep on tonight, we’re all going to freeze.” Cristiana sighed, staring at her bare mattress. It had been one grossly stressful day and she was glad it was over, even though now nobody was going to have a comfortable sleep. 

They’d all been given disposable yellow jumpsuits for the next two nights and they were crackly and uncomfortable, but it was one hundred percent better than the couple hours everyone spent walking around in their underwear. Cristiana didn’t exactly care as much, she was still fit and frequently wore little while at the gym all day long, but she knew how uncomfortable most of the ladies were, especially with all the male guards leering at them. Nearly all of them were. They didn’t often go into the bathrooms, the only place where nothing was out of bounds, so she knew everyone was stressed. 

“It’s Spain, we’ll be fine.” Jamie shook out her wet hair. She’d been given one of the last lice treatments, as she’d had to still be on duty for the kitchen, and all the meals had been given late while they waited to get the kitchen staff their jumpsuits. Cristiana had been asked to help get everything in the washers, which had taken up massive amounts of the day, but it was better than feeling helpless, she decided. 

“Has this happened before?”

“Not since I’ve been here, I don’t think lice is actually usually an issue. My bet is, someone got it from hugging their kid on a visit, otherwise, I don’t really know what happened, and the rest, we know.”

Cristiana nodded. “I’ve never had it before.”

“Oh, I have, they’ll making too much of a big deal out of this. I guess they have to, or it’ll keep getting worse, but it’s just head lice. I used to get it all the time as a kid.”

Cristiana liked that Jamie would talk to her more now. Not that she didn’t speak to her before, and not that she didn’t still reach a point where she just could not continue to carry a conversation and would grow quiet, but this was better. Now Cristiana could sit next to Jamie while she read her book, and Jamie would absently hold her hand. She was climbing onto her bed with her book now, so Cristiana followed suit and sat next to her. The guards probably knew they were a thing, but she tried to keep it mild enough that they couldn’t tell. 

“Well, this has been one way to bond as a new couple.”

Jamie said it so vacantly while flipping to the next page of her book, so offhandedly, that Cristiana burst out laughing. It made her feel warm too. They were a couple. That felt good to hear.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas in prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, everyone! This episode is admittedly a little depressing, so I'm sorry, but I hope you all have a lovely day. 
> 
> Tell me what you did on your Christmas/other holidays!

Maria put her key in the ignition of the minivan, feeling apprehensive. This was the first time she was going out properly with the van, out to get Christmas decorations with a guard at the grocery closest to the prison. She’d run the van back and forth down the hill to the maximum security prison a few times with guards to run errands there, and she’d been to the main office as well, but she knew this was the test, to see if she would really be able to handle being on the road with many vehicles after years of no driving. 

Sabi was hurt, she knew. Hurt but understanding. She couldn’t drive it anymore, she understood, but it still must have stung to Sabi when she learned who the job was given to. It was a funny thing about Sabi, she kept saying it was her fault, and she understood. Everyone kept telling her that it obviously wasn’t her fault, that she’d been ill, but Maria felt funny about it. There was something not quite right with Sabi these days that nobody seemed to notice. She seemed her happy and smiley self, but she seemed sluggish, and when she’d turn to look at someone, her eyes would seem hyper-focused and too intense. Perhaps Marta would notice soon enough. Maria hoped there wasn’t something more seriously wrong with the poor girl. 

“Okay, ter Stegen, let’s get going.” Maria’s guard today was named Sanchez. She didn’t try too hard to focus on the guards. They were inconsequential. She didn’t do anything to warrant a telling off, so she never bothered to watch which ones were or weren’t nice.

“So tell me a bit about yourself. We’ve got all this time on the drive.” Sanchez smiled a bit as Maria gripped the wheel of the minivan a little too tightly. 

“Oh, I’m from Germany.” 

“You have siblings there? Was Germany nice? I think we all know you’re from Germany.”

“I have a brother.” Maria kept her eyes closely on the road. 

Sanchez shut up at that point. She’d rather unnerve him than keep having the conversation. It was far easier than pretending like she was comfortable with the situation. Guards shouldn’t try and chat anyways. They had a job to do. 

“Here, pull off at this turn, the grocer’s is right on left, okay?”

Maria followed his instructions and pulled into the parking lot. She wondered if she’d get stared at a lot. She probably would. Sabi always used to talk about how much fun she had, how many nice people she met, but Maria seriously wondered if Sabi was misreading the people that she spoke to, if she was not understanding how uncomfortable they were. Prisoners made people uncomfortable, and that was the end of that. As they left the van, it became clear it was going to be worse when Sanchez brought out a pair of handcuffs. 

“Just for the grocery cart.”

“What would that do? I could still run away with the grocery cart if I still desired.”

“And how far would a someone in prison garb being weighed down by a grocery cart they couldn’t get rid of get?”

Maria smiled slightly at the humorous thought, which Sanchez took as success. “It’s all just policy.”

“Okay, go on.”

Sanchez carefully clipped one of her wrists to the cart, which was going to make her stand out even further. The grocery was a smaller one, with only a small party supply section, but Maria did find herself mildly interested. She’d spent little time in Spain out and about, and had never been to one of their grocers. Very different than any of the other sorts she’d been to. She’d never properly got a good look at the sort of the food brands they had either, so that was of some curiosity too. She rather lazily moved through the aisle to where they needed to be, ignoring if anyone might be looking at her. They probably were. Maria felt a tiny bit less anxious than she normally might have. It wasn’t so bad having a bit of new scenery, if briefly, if she could ignore everyone around her.

“Okay, we have fifty euros to work with. Help me pick, as a German, you must have had good, proper Christmases.”

Maria made a noncommittal noise and dropped a wreath into the cart. They weren’t particularly, but she wasn’t about to say. 

~

“Hey you, so how was the trip out? Did you enjoy yourself?” Ivana had been patient. She knew she would have to wait until nobody was around to ask Maria if she’d had a good time at the store. Maria had told her she didn’t want to go, that she on no planet wanted to be seen by anyone who might recognize her, but Ivana knew the public’s memory was short. They’d forgotten about her awfully quickly. A few who had watched Maria’s case might remember, but she’d likely never be thought of again.

“We bought some tinsel and things. I did not hate it. But I did not like being isolated with him.” Maria nodded sternly at this. 

“Did he do anything inappropriate?” Ivana broached this topic carefully. She didn’t think so, Maria probably would not be stern and more quiet and afraid to talk about it, but she was careful nonetheless. 

“He was just annoying. He should not chat.”

Ivana was patient. Maria spoke carefully, always did. Her Spanish was better now, but she still spoke slowly and simply to keep from stumbling over her words. There was nothing she hated more than feeling stupid. 

“I have finished making a Christmas present for you.” 

“Did you? That’s sweet, Maria. Don’t show me yet, okay? I’m not done making your present, so we’ll do it on the Christmas party, okay?” Ivana thought that would be good to get her mind off Christmas. Literally nobody liked the holiday season here, but why would they? Not even the poor sots who had to work the day as guards got any respite, even though they were at least being paid for it. Such a miserable day, though. They didn’t even get to see their families. It would be too overwhelming to throw visitation on a holiday like that, so Christmas with family came two days earlier. A party was thrown for just the inmates on Christmas day, but it wasn’t the same. 

Maria was holding Ivana’s hands absently, now silent and in thought. She wasn’t huggy, but Maria liked to hold her hand a lot. Ivana worked hard for Maria’s affection, but she had to be so careful. She’d once gone to give Maria a hug, and she’d backed up so hard she hit a wall like Ivana was going to hit her. But it was about understanding everyone’s boundaries so Ivana had changed tactics. She asked before all personal contact, which was a bit of a weird learning curve, but one she was willing to do. Ivana wasn’t used to it because literally nobody used to ask in their circle. It was all about free love and attention between her friends. Maybe they were hippies. Ivana supposed they were. She’d loved men in her circle, and women too. It was easy with them. 

“Are you still not going to have any meat this year? You miss out on all the nice lamb they make. Only nice meat they properly make. Once a year.”

“No lamb for me, Maria, you know that.”

“It makes you eat so little. You need the nutrition.” Maria’s stern voice was back. They frequently argued about Ivana’s vegetarianism. 

“I get my nutrition from all the beans and veggies we eat. Don’t you fret, okay? No lamb for me, more for you to enjoy.”

~

~Sikirevci, Croatia, twenty years earlier~

“And is anyone having a big turkey this Christmas?”

Ivana raised her hand proudly with the rest of her classmates. It was her first time at a big farm. Everybody loved field trips. They sometimes got to go to big towns. Once all the way to Slavonski Brod to watch a play! This one wasn’t too far, it was only to the big Stadler farm to look at the animals, but it was still very fun. Ivana loved animals. They had a horse at home and a doggy. They’d already looked at the horses at the Stadler farm, and they were awful shiny, but Ivana was more excited about the other animals. It was the last day of class before Christmas break started, and that wasn’t the only good thing. Her grandma was coming all the way from Pula for an early Christmas supper tonight.

“Does anyone know how we get those big turkeys? What a real turkey looks like?”

A few kids that lived over at farms themselves raised their hands, but Ivana kept hers down. She’d never seen a real turkey and not thought about it. She followed the rest of the group over to where the birds must be, screeching at the smell with the rest of her friends. 

“Hold my hand, Petra.” Ivana took her friend’s hand and dragged her along to see closer. 

“It smells so bad!”

“It does, but I bet they’re cute!”

The turkeys were much bigger than she was expecting. They didn’t make the noises she was expecting either. One of the farmhands seemed to be wrestling with one of the turkeys, which made the class laugh, until they took it and hung it upside down with string. Ivana suddenly could not look away from what they were doing, struck with absolute horror, as they took the turkey and zapped it with a rod, before slicing it in the neck, spraying blood everywhere. Everyone was screaming, some in terror, others in joy, but Ivana couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t move. She was frozen to her spot, staring at the bird writhe and then die in front of her. Someone was clapping their hands, everyone was shuffling onward, but Ivana still could not pull her eyes away.

“Ivana, let’s GO!”

“I…”

The teacher came over and dragged her away, but there was nothing left to say. 

Ivana didn’t eat any turkey that night. She didn’t have ham. Mama got upset, said she was going to go hungry, that she’d be sorry she didn’t have any, especially spoiling supper with Grandma. Ivana couldn’t do it. She would never be able to get that flailing turkey out of her mind ever again. 

~

“How’s my man, Sergio? How’s my buddy? You are so big, Sergio, such a big boy now.”

“Mama! Let me down, let me down!”

Sabina put Sergio down. He was getting to big to be held. Sabina knew she should stop trying to lift him, but all she wanted to do was squeeze him until he popped. 

“Be careful with him, right?”

“Yeah, Marco, I know. He’s a tough kid, he can be picked up.” Sergio was off running to see another child, one of the other inmate’s children. There was a little area that had some shit toys for kids in the visitation room. He didn’t used to play with the other kids too often, but he liked it a lot now. 

“I made Sergio a card, here.” Sabina slid the card across the table. “I did get the card he sent. I…thank you for sending it.”

“Thanks,” Marco fiddled a bit with the edge of the paper of the card. “It’s busy in here.”

“It’s the holidays, Marco.” Sabina was trying so hard to keep her temper. Marco had come up, he could have ruined everything. She could watch Sergio play for a little while, even if he didn’t want to come over to the table to talk too often.

“Don’t I know.”

“What are you getting Sergio for Christmas?”

“He’s getting one of those little toy Range Rovers he can ride.”

“Marco, that’s really expensive.”

“Well, someone has to make up for the fact that he got a card from his mother.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sabina slammed her palm on the table. “Why are you being like this lately? I am doing my best in here to be a good mother. I am doing my best to connect with him, to not lose that bond. I’m the one that shoved him out of my vagina, not you.”

“And he’s still half mine, Sabina. You’re the one that made the terrible choices that got you here and away from him.”

“I’m not begrudging you for being a good dad to him. I’m glad you’re there for him.” Sabina leaned back in her chair and turned away from Marco to watch Sergio. He was trying to take command of the play area, put people into groups for something. A little leader. Sabina knew that Sergio got that from her. It certainly wasn’t from his father.

“Okay, great. Sergio should have a good time in two days. My girlfriend is coming to the dinner too, Sergio is getting on great with her.”

He was just trying to hurt her more. If she lashed out, she knew there would be hell to pay for her. And Marco knew that. He never used to be like this. He used to want to help. Maybe this fucking bitch new girlfriend was doing this to him. Poisoning his mind. The cunt could suck Marco’s dick all she wanted, she still wasn’t Sergio’s mother. 

“Okay, well, great, Marco. Hey babe? Babe?” Sabina waved Sergio back over. He managed to tear himself away from the other kids and wandered over, before climbing up into Marco’s lap. Heartbreaking. He wasn’t allowed on Sabina’s lap and he knew that. He knew the rules by now. It still hurt. 

“Here, I made you a card, just like how you made me such a nice card. Will you take it and put it in your room?” Sabina offered the card to Sergio, who grabbed it and opened it. She knew Marco would read the message she put inside just for Sergio, but that was a given. It was so hard knowing Sergio probably cared little about the card. If he was older, maybe he could appreciate it more. But four-year-olds just wanted toys. Fancy toy cruisers. There was not a fucking thing that she could give him in prison, even if she were allowed. 

“Thank you, Mama.”

“You are so welcome, my angel. I love you so much, you know, Sergio. I want you to have a happy Christmas, you’re going to have a good time with daddy.” 

Sergio nodded, before turning the card back over and petting one of the fuzzy stickers. Sabina felt like sobbing. Sabina almost never cried. It was an act that felt so grossly unnatural, reserved for when something was so horrible wrong and tragic that tears were appropriate. She was stronger stuff than this. She might feel like screeching and crying and tearing at her own hair, but she wouldn’t. She smiled at Marco, a tense, curling smile, instead. 

~

~Madrid, Spain, twelve years earlier~

“Aw, come on, go fuck yourself, man.”

“You’re just takin’ the piss, you’re not serious.”

“I’m not fucking around!”

Sabina laughed along with all the boys’ chatter. It was a little hard to always track who was bullshitting what story to try and impress the other, and they all were at all times, but that was what they did. Sabina chucked her cigarette butt at the passing train, trying to see if she could get it through the open window into the cargo hold. She never made it in, and she wondered that if she did if the spark would be enough to light anything on fire in the train, but that might be sort of funny even if it did. There was nothing else to do in the old train yard. She knew they all liked to go there because it was private and out of bounds and thus exciting, but quiet enough that nobody ever caught them. A win-win. They could smoke their weed and drink and nobody gave a shit. 

“You think he’s lying, babe?”

Sabina turned to Fernando from her position in the crook of his arm. “Well, yeah, no fuckin’ shit he’s lying, I didn’t even hear what Serge was saying, but he’s lying.”

“Ramos, you piece of shit.” Serge sulked and lit another cigarette.

“That’s me. You love it. You’d all be furious if I was gone, no titties to stare at.” Sabina was presently in Nando’s hoodie and only a little tank top underneath, and she’d zipped the hoodie down so everyone could get a little cleavage, although her rack was only average. Not that Nando cared. 

“Are you skipping school again?”

“What the fuck do you think, Serge? It’s a Tuesday at noon, where do you think I ought to be?”

They laughed. Sabina did too. She didn’t need school, she’d decided long ago. She had a way of working out everything on her own already, and she didn’t need to go. All these sots had failed out ages back, and Sabina secretly felt she was smarter than them, but they were all older than eighteen. They made her feel special, accepting her to hang out at only sixteen. She’d grown further and further apart from her own friends in high school, and they’d been disgusted to hear she was dating a nineteen-year-old drop out, but they could go fuck themselves. It was only three years. She really loved Nando, she thought, although she’d never told him. 

There was a noise, a clanking of gates, and the group jerked. Was a security guard actually here to kick them out? Nobody ever came by. Sabina stood up and reached into her back pocket out of instinct. Nando had given her a little knife, smaller than his own, and Sabina admitted it, she was afraid to use it. She acted like she wasn’t, and she could use her fists well, but something about actually knifing someone seemed terrible. 

“Hey, who the fuck’s there? Show yourself!” Nando was pulling ahead of Sabina, putting himself in front of her body. 

“Bunch of skids in here, already, look.” There were unfamiliar voices. The voices finally came out from behind a shipping crate, and Sabina felt her hackles go up. These people looked older, and they looked scuzzy, and definitely like she was in a gang. All shaved heads and tattoos and the like. It was a weird feeling that she was getting, like she was seeing her friends in the future, but right now, they were still soft. Sabina didn’t like the feeling. 

“Why don’t you piss the fuck off, you fucks? We were here first.” Nando was putting on an aggressive stance. Sabina wished he’d just calm down. She could talk her way into what she wanted easier. If she could just talk to them, hold her ground, she’d get them off the lot and out of their hair.

“Little pissant.” One of the skinheads took hold of Nando by his t-shirt, and Sabina made a shrill noise. 

“Just fucking drop it, okay? Don’t fucking touch him!”

“Is that your girl? She looks young.” The skinhead had very specific tattoos all over himself. Sabina looked over them carefully, sure to memorize the ink on his skin that signified something important. She knew they did. Gang signs. She’d have to watch for anyone that might have any of these tattoos. 

“Teach her a lesson, teach her not to talk back to men.” One of the other gang members laughed. The rest of her friends were holding onto their own small weapons, but unwilling to come forward and launch threats. 

“Hey!” Nando barked, still being held onto. “Don’t touch her, Sabina, get out of here!”

“You’re right, I should teach her a lesson.” 

Before Sabina could even get a grasp of what was going on, the fucking skinhead whipped out his own knife and rammed it hard into Nando’s gut, twisting it. Sabina remembered screaming, Nando screamed, everyone was starting to disperse and scatter. He dropped Nando, who was jerking around, and Sabina couldn’t tell whether to run to him or to Nando. Her friends were in terror, but that’s not what she felt. It was a fury she’d never felt in her system, a feeling of powerlessness. She’d done nothing to try and stop this. Her comments might have made it worse, even. She eventually took her small knife and slashed his arm, as quick as she could, before taking both Nando’s arms and dragging him with as much strength as she possibly could muster behind the shipping crate. 

“Baby, baby, hey, oh fuck, oh fuck.” Sabina could see all the blood pooling out from the middle of his shirt, spreading faster and faster. Everyone else was gone, there was silence. Where was Serge, and Sam and Diego? Where the fuck were these cowards? Sabina didn’t dare utter the word help. The silence was better, in case any of them were still hanging around for sport. 

“Sabina?”

“You need to stay still, Jesus Christ. Let’s stop the bleeding, then we can try and get up, get you to a hospital.”

“You don’t need to fuss, I’m okay. Fuckin’ skid ass punks, eh?”

There was suddenly silence. Nando’s eyes were still wide open, but there was nothing. No movement. No breath. Fuck. No, no, fuck. Sabina patted his cheek, then shook him, starting to howl despite herself. How could he have died that fast? Did he hit an artery? This wasn’t possible, it just wasn’t possible. They were just out having a smoke. How could someone just do this?

But he was dead. That was that. Sabina still knew she was still raining tears all over his front, but she summoned up the courage to pushed his eyelids down and put her arm around him. He was still warm. Like he might still be there for just a little while. With her. 

Those fuckers wouldn’t get away with it. Not any of them. Sabina had the face of every last one of those men immortalized in her mind, but she knew their ink. She’d find their group. Track down all of them, no matter how many of them there were. 

~  
Cristiana pulled the paper hat she’d been given off her head. No amount of silly Christmas knickknacks would make her feel better about today. She didn’t care if everyone was telling her she was having a bad attitude about it. It wouldn’t. How could everyone seem so cheery, passing around cheap store-bought mantecado cookies like it was a real treat and opening more cheap Christmas crackers, making a big fuss about the plastic crap inside. She didn’t even have the urge to eat right now, even though there was a table left out with the lamb. Even though the meal was meant to be buffet-style, there were still a few kitchen workers holding some of it hostage in the back so nobody could overindulge and everyone had a chance to get some. Nobody seemed to be, though. Everyone seemed in such gentle spirits with each other. It’s not that Cristiana felt hateful towards anyone, not at all. She just couldn’t understand how anyone could laugh and smile today. All their families were at home, celebrating without them. The literal only other person she saw who wasn’t chipper was Gwen. Gwen was accepting a lot of hugs from people and she seemed low, although you could really tell she was at least trying to join what people were doing. 

“There you are, my dear. Feliz Natal.”

Cristiana looked up. It was Mama Marcelo. She came and sat down across from Cristiana and smiled warmly, her own paper hat barely balanced on her hair. 

“Feliz Natal.” Cristiana sighed heavily despite herself. 

“You’re not enjoying yourself?”

“How can anyone be enjoying themselves? This is miserable.”

“Can you imagine how miserable it would be if we weren’t throwing a party? The girls really look forward to this, it’s a chance to just try and have some looser better times. Less rules.”

“But how can everyone be so happy when they’re missing their families?”

“Sometimes the people in here are these girls’ families.” Marcelo shrugged and looked around. “Other times, it’s about grinning and bearing it. I have two sons, Cristiana. I miss them today with my whole heart. I love them the most in the world. But we must make the best of our situations.”

Cristiana looked around. Some women were starting to get up and dance. Neymar had put on one of her old, shitty hip hop tapes, and everyone was laughing and pretending to dance slutty. Bartra and Neymar were actually both really good dancers, in different ways. Neymar knew how to pop her body, while Bartra’s moves were smoother. Nobody else was any good at all, and everyone was laughing. She saw Little General Messi tucked in the corner of the recreation room, slow dancing with Aguero, faces pushed close together, even though the music was upbeat. Gwen was accepting a big hug and a little card from Modric, planting a small kiss on her cheek. And then there was Jamie, grinding against Rafa, both of them roaring with laughter. Mama Marcelo was right. Everyone seemed to be trying to keep as positive as possible. Cristiana should get up and see Jamie.

“I’m going to try.” Cristiana stood up. She considered putting the paper hat back on, but that just seemed like just one step too far. 

“Feel at least a little better?”

“You always know what to say.” Cristiana went over and gave Mama Marcelo a hug. 

“It’s the life experience, you young thing.”

Cristiana rubbed Mama Marcelo’s arm and smiled gently at her, before making her way over to the crowd of women.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria relives some trauma, Kun gets an ultrasound, and Cristiana and Leo have a unique English lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THERE ARE TWO RAPE SCENES IN THIS CHAPTER. 
> 
> If you wish to skip these scenes:
> 
> THE FIRST ONE IS THE FIRST SECTION IN THIS CHAPTER. SKIP TO 
> 
> “Were you wanting to know the sex of the baby, do you think?” 
> 
> TO AVOID THIS PART. 
> 
> THE SECOND ONE IS THE LAST SECTION OF THIS CHAPTER. END AT 
> 
> “Alright, bitch, let’s go.” 
> 
> TO AVOID THIS PART. 
> 
> I genuinely do not want this chapter to be traumatic to people. It was very hard to write. I structured it so that the middle section would be safe for anyone to read. There will also be no other explicit rape scenes in this fic.

~2012 London Olympic Games, Olympic Village, four years earlier~

“You’re really, just really nuts at what you do, you know, like we’ve all just been blown away.”

Maria stared down into her can of beer and grinned. She’d never felt better in her life. It was such a spectacular, rich, amazing high to have three gold medals around your neck. She’d been happy, and grinning, and even flirting a little with all the handsome other athletes. This was a handsome American, and Maria congratulated herself for actually knowing English. She wasn’t perfect at it, but she’d picked it up pretty well from all her studying for interviews. Not that she gave too many in the past. She’d given so many these past few days, enough to make her socially very anxious normally, but she’d grown confident with each answer. The secret was to keep your answers quiet and short, nothing too revealing or stressful. 

“Thank you so much. I don’t find it too hard. But we will see. The ISSF European Championship is coming up. Now there is a lot of pressure, yes?”

“Yes.” The man laughed. Maria thought his name was maybe Ben. He was probably a swimmer. There were so many of them. She didn’t think he’d won anything. 

“Do you think they’re going to make you the flag-bearer for the closing ceremonies for Germany? Geez, would be some honour.” 

“Um, I don’t know. I’ve heard it. We still have half the games to go, so we will see. But right now I think I’m the main choice.” Maria allowed herself a moment to brag.

“You don’t find many beer-drinking women, these days. One of the boys, are you?”

“No, just German.”

That made Ben, or whatever his name was, laugh more. Maria had been meaning to be clever, but even she didn’t reckon the joke was that funny. But everybody seemed to be roaring with laughter in the clubhouse all around her. Maria had heard that everyone in the Olympic villages often got very loose, and loose was not her style, but it felt nice to relax and laugh a bit. Everything was so completely removed from reality here. She supposed that even if people lost, they couldn’t be unhappy in the Village. 

“It’s really fucking loud down here, Maria, why don’t we go back to my room so we can talk some more. You have such a quiet voice.”

Maria considered this. He might be using a euphemism. But he could be truthful, she was a quiet person.

“I do not want to get too tired.”

“Just until we’re done our drinks. It’s just getting louder and louder down here, you know?”

Maria nodded and stood up. Her social battery was starting to drain. It’d taken a lot longer than it normally did to drain to zero, but it was still starting to go rapidly downhill. She’d finish her conversation for another half an hour then go to bed. His room was one of the ones on the top floor, which was nice. With the double-sealed windows, you couldn’t even hear the partying outside, and there was nothing from the din below them in the clubhouse that could be heard from the floorboards. Maria found herself one of his chairs and plunked herself down in it with her beer.

Ben sat on his bed instead, even though there was a chair opposite Maria. 

“I bet all this shyness is a façade. I bet you’re a total freak in other ways.”

“Freak?” Maria stared hard at him.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, like, you know, sexually.”

Maria kept staring. The conversation had collapsed in two sentences. She knew she was walking into this situation with the fifty-fifty expectation that this is what he wanted, but he’d asked so fast. Couldn’t men think of any other thing? 

“I don’t think so, I’m sorry to disappoint.” Maria got up. 

“Hey, hey, don’t go, Maria.” Ben leapt up and stood in front of the door.

“I’m very tired.”

“No, don’t go.” Ben wouldn’t move, and Maria began to feel cold, her body immediately feeling clammy and sweaty. This was very, very bad. Maria had to get out of here, she suddenly wanted to get out of the whole Olympic Village, to leave London. 

“I have a busy day tomorrow.”

Ben caught her arm, then leaned in with a kiss, one that tried to catch Maria’s whole mouth. Maria immediately tried to pull away, at least get her cheek kissed instead. Ben’s face changed, one to anger at being rebuffed. 

“Why did you come up here?”

“I…I don’t know.” Maria tried to go for the door again. She’d taken a leap of faith. She’d split her odds that she’d be okay, that he hadn’t liked the loud clubhouse. Stupid, stupid Maria. It was never okay. Bedrooms weren’t safe. There was nothing more terrifying than a dark bedroom. You could never trust a man. When had one ever made himself trustworthy? When had she last spoken to her father? Four years earlier? Or five? Maria’s memories were starting to get scrambled. She’d moved to Munich when she was fifteen because she’d been offered a coach. The last night at home, she had burned in her mind. Worse than any other night she’d endured in her childhood. He was so angry, so fucking angry that she was leaving, to be near Jean instead. Maria had played dead at night for years, but she did recall hitting him, telling him how much she hated him, how she wished he were dead so that he would never again touch her. It had been the only time she’d done it since she was small, and it had shocked him. It had shocked herself. He’d called once since that time, but he hadn’t followed. 

“Bullshit, you know why you came.”

“I don’t!” Maria was panicking, scrabbling to get past him to the doorknob. He pulled her aside to the edge of the bed instead. She heard herself ask him to let her go in German. He wouldn’t know what she’d said, and wouldn’t care, and she knew she was starting to lose it, she was starting to lose any control or power she might have been able to cling to. If she’d managed to get to the door herself, but she hadn’t. She’d failed. The struggling was starting to feel heavy and difficult as he shoved her onto the bed. Maria desperately wanted to fight. Her heart was screaming at her brain to keep fighting, but it was too late. Her brain was shutting off. Trying to keep itself safe from thinking. Maria turned her head in the direction of the chair nearby and stared widely at the upholstery pattern as Ben pulled her pants down and opened her legs. Just play dead. It would go by faster. 

~

“Were you wanting to know the sex of the baby, do you think?” Roccuzzo was sitting between Kun and Maria in the Sant Pau waiting room, in a good mood. Kun knew she normally was, but every guard liked to go on outings as much as the inmates did. Both Kun and Maria were cuffed to the arm of their chair, and people were giving the three of them a wide radius in the waiting room like they were all ax murderers, rather than just screw-ups, but everybody was still feeling pretty light. 

“I don’t think I do, actually. I don’t think it would help me prepare at all, you know? Let’s just make it a surprise.” Kun rested her chin on her free palm. 

“Of course. I just wondered.”

“I don’t think I want babies.” Maria inputted a quiet sentence while she flipped through an old magazine with her free hand.

“Do you want babies, Roccuzzo? You’ve never mentioned whether you have kids or not.” Kun was starting to get a little uncomfortable. The hospital had instructed the doctor in prison to have her drink a lot of water before coming for her appointment, so she was chatting a lot to keep her mind off it. She wished she could have brought her sketchbook so she could make funny left-handed sketches of the other people waiting, but she hadn’t been able to bring it. 

“I don’t have any, but maybe one day.”

“Sabina Aguero?” The receptionist called from her desk. The receptionist hadn’t been happy with convicts sitting in her waiting room either, but Kun guessed that the poor woman wouldn’t have any frame of reference that they weren’t high-security prisoners. Roccuzzo stood up and unlocked both of them. Kun knew Maria would rather stay in the waiting room. She liked Maria, but didn’t honestly know her too well, and something like an ultrasound was a bit of a personal event that they both would rather have let Kun have to herself, but they couldn’t leave her in the waiting room alone. At least she’d just sit and stay quiet. Roccuzzo would want to see the baby and ask questions. It bothered her that these were the people that were going to be here for such a private moment. Kun would have preferred Leo, or her mom. At the very least, it wasn’t Sabi. She loved Sabi, but Sabi talked a lot and would also have lots of questions. They followed along with a nurse who popped them into the examination room, looking a little skeeved out.

“You can just wait as you are, no need to change into a gown, okay?”

Kun nodded and sat on the little bed. Roccuzzo didn’t bother cuffing either of them in the little room, which was nice. She knew neither of them would bolt, there was no reason for either of them to do so, but it made the people around them feel better. 

“You must be Sabina, yes? I’m Dr. Arias, I’m glad to meet you, I got your file from Dr. Carrasco. I’ll be your obstetrician for the remainder of your pregnancy.” This Dr. Arias already seemed like a level woman. She was treating Kun like a person. “I imagine we will not be able to meet terribly often, but I will be asking for updates from Dr. Carrasco, okay?”

“We’ll see how often he asks me for updates.” Kun laughed a bit. She was being honest, the prison doctor was really only there to hand out meds, but Dr. Arias didn’t look very happy with the joke. 

“We’ll try to make sure you get the best care.” Dr. Arias glanced over at Roccuzzo and Maria. 

“I’m Antonella,” Roccuzzo reached over and shook Dr. Arias’ hand. “And our lovely driver for the day Maria is just keeping us company.” She was being so informal. The guards never used first names, but Kun supposed it would sound funny if she did the same in front of the doctor’s. Kun realized she never knew Roccuzzo’s name was Antonella. 

“Okay, so this should be pretty painless, Sabina, just lie back for me and lift your shirt up, there we go. Can we edge your pants down just a little? Nothing much, this is all modest. Have you had an ultrasound of any kind before?”

Kun shook her head and pulled her shirt up. She felt a little anxious, actually. She’d not gotten the ultrasound the book told her she should have gotten early on, so she wondered if the baby was healthy. It was weird to think about how fond she’d gotten, thinking about the baby. But she wanted it to be well, deeply. Dr. Arias put a big glob of the ultrasound jelly on her stomach and started the machine, with Roccuzzo already watching with great interest. 

“Sabina, already we’re seeing the outlines of your baby here, can you see it?” 

Kun nodded. She could see the fuzzy outline. She hoped Dr. Arias wouldn’t focus too hard on how big the baby should be, because she was weeks earlier than they thought, but maybe she didn’t know that. She didn’t think that Roccuzzo would care or notice, at least. Dr. Arias was still talking about this and that, where the baby’s body parts were and what the little thing was doing with them, and Roccuzzo was nodding along, acutely interested, like she was the father. Kun cared, of course, but she really was just mesmerized with the baby’s shape as a whole. 

“And do you hear that, Sabina? That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”  
Kun felt her heart grow light. It was really surreal to realize there was another little tiny thing with an itty-bitty beating heart inside her for her to take care of. Kun wondered if she would cry. Maybe she would be okay, but it was so touching and special, it really was. 

“Did you want to know the sex, Sabina?”

Kun shook her head.

“Okay, I’ll print a photo for your room, sound good?”

“Could you print two or three? Three would be good.” Kun wanted to bring one to Leo. She didn’t know if Leo would be interested or not, but Leo should have one. It was only right. Gino should have one too, at least to see, even if he didn’t want to see it ever again. 

“Okay, I’ll print three.”

Kun turned her head on the little paper-covered pillow of the bed to smile at Roccuzzo and Maria. Maria flashed her a brief closed-lip smile back but Roccuzzo reached over and stroked Kun’s arm a bit. Probably inappropriate, but it was all okay in here. 

~

~San Diego Comic Con, eight years earlier~

Kun sorely wished she had a costume. Not everyone was, but it seemed that the people having the most fun were in costume. It had been something she’d considered, but there was no time to get a costume ready in time, nor would it probably travel well. It had been a long, fucking exhausting flight, but it was done with, she’d slept off the jet lag for a couple days, and now she was here. She was really here. Kun hadn’t imagined that Comic Con would be remotely this big. She’d been to the one in Buenos Aires, of course. But it wasn’t as big, and she didn’t feel that Valentina Rabia had been ready yet for her to try and peddle her to any artists or publishers. She was ready now, Kun could feel it. She adjusted the laminated tag she’d made for herself. It said her name and that she was from Argentina, and that her English was very weak so could people be gentle with her. 

“Hello,” Kun tried very carefully when she approached the next art table. She’d been practicing her speech in English so hard for all these people with industry connections, but so far, it didn’t seem to be making any impact. She’d only hit a couple of tables but they’d all said they weren’t interested so far. “My name is Kun Aguero, and I’m here to present an exciting new project I’m trying to get out there, and I would like to introduce you to Valentina Rabia, a new Latina superhero who will blow your socks off!”

Already this person wasn’t looking entirely convinced. Kun glanced closer at their table of work. They definitely were a writer, but they already looked like a boring one. All the covers featured white dudes. Well, one was blue, but she supposed he was probably an alien that acted just like a white dude. 

“I understand you probably have your own career path going, but I am looking to establish,” Kun struggled over the word. It was one she was having trouble with all day. “Establish connections so I can join the growing community of artists. Do you want to look?”

The man kept staring at her. Kun steeled herself for another no. 

“Look, sweetheart, Kun, is it? Different name.”

Kun felt frustrated. He pronounced her name like it rhymed with the English word “gun.” 

“Anyway, sweetheart, I don’t think your style meshes with mine. We wouldn’t be compatible.”

“You have not looked at it. It is in Spanish, but I can do my best to translate.”

“I looked at the cover.”

Kun felt a little close to tears, but kept a brave face. She knew there would be lots of rejections here, and the day was still early, but he didn’t have to be such a dick.

“Alright, thank you.” Kun collected Valentina and left his table. She’d try the next comic artist, or maybe some of the bigger tables of the big companies. There was less of a chance with them, but maybe someone would bite. 

Or not. Kun started to drag her feet after only a couple hours. It was so frustrating, a lot more frustrating than she thought to get turned away time and time again. It was heartbreaking, seeing so many people turn down Valentina. Valentina felt like her, was heart soul, and it hurt that nobody wanted her. She didn’t even know who was left that would be remotely relevant that could help her get an in. There was one little tucked away corner that wasn’t getting as much foot location because of its bad location, and it didn’t look that good anyway, but Kun thought that might be it. Kun marched over to the first table there, a fat man in his mid-thirties with a ponytail and adult acne. Kun was a little shocked at the stereotypical vision of this man. She’d met lots of folk, all kinds today, and nobody looked like this much of a classic gamer. 

“Hello! My name is Kun Aguero, and I’m here to present an exciting new project I’m trying to get out there, and I would like to introduce you to Valentina Rabia, a new Latina superhero who will blow your socks off!”

The man looked up, and smiled, then read the tag on Kun’s lanyard.

“¿Es tu español mejor, cariño?”

“Oh!” Kun changed back to Spanish. The first person who had tried all day, despite the fact that Kun knew how many Spanish-speakers lived in California. “Are you Latino?”

“No, honey. I just learned it in school. What is this exciting new project, let me see.”

“Well, it’s all in Spanish too.” Kun handed it over, feeling anxious. 

“Not a problem, honey. Here, relax, let’s take a look.”

~

Cristiana tried to stifle a yawn. Little General Messi’s pen was quietly scratching in her workbook, and she wasn’t taking too kindly to being interrupted today. Cristiana would have to wait until she was done the page before she could mark it, and with Messi, that could take ages. 

“How’s your girlfriend, Ronaldo?” Messi spoke blandly without looking up from her workbook. Cristiana never knew how to handle these questions. She thought Messi was okay with Jamie, but maybe not. She didn’t know what Messi really thought of anyone, including Aguero and Neymar. 

“Girlfriend?” Cristiana was perfectly aware that she and Jamie had agreed to be a couple. But nobody had actually said the girlfriend word. They’d said she and Jamie were hooking up, or were partners. They were girlfriends, but it sounded foreign when it was said. Weird.

“Are you not Rodriguez’s girlfriend?”

Cristiana took a shot at the joke at Messi. “Which Rodriguez?”

Messi looked up from her workbook and raised her eyebrows in amusement, before hitting Cristiana in the shoulder with the flat of her palm. It was the best she’d ever done with Messi. Cristiana congratulated herself. 

“No, she’s good, she’s good. We’re having a nice time, thank you for asking. How…how’s your girlfriend? Girlfriends?”

“You make me sound bad. They’re fine, when they’re not bitching to me about each other.”

“Maybe polyamory isn’t what it’s cracked up to be?”

“Mouthy today, Ronaldo.”

“I’m a lot mouthier than people think.”

“I know.”

Cristiana wondered how Messi could possibly know that. She tried so hard to be polite to everyone here in the prison. She joked and lipped off her friends, but she would never dare to lip off anyone from Little General Messi’s group, and never the guards either. 

“I’m sorry if you don’t care for me as a teacher, I don’t mean to be rude or lippy.”

“No, you’re fine. You’re not so bad.” Messi was still speaking flippantly, chewing the cap of her pen as she tried to think of the next English verb to write on the page.

“You don’t dislike me?”

“Nah. You’re not really a product of Ramos. You’re a product of Bale. Nobody hates Bale.”

Cristiana nodded. That was true. Gwen was a favourite throughout the prison, no matter who you were. Cristiana always felt very pleased that Gwen seemed to love her a lot, more than most people around her, even though she hadn’t been there very long. 

“You a queer before all this, Ronaldo?” Messi flung the workbook over to Cristiana to mark and waited impatiently for her to get going. Cristiana seized her pen.

“No, not before this. I’m, working through some stuff, in here.”

“Aren’t we all. I’m bored. You’re obviously athletic, you want to play some ball outside, Ronaldo?”

“We have like an hour of class left, Lit—I mean Messi. Won’t we get in trouble?”

“Is Enrique charting when I take classes? Come on. Talk in English to me or whatever while we play, call it a lesson.” Messi was up and moving out of the Learning Commons through the library, back to the bedrooms to get her ball. Cristiana hesitantly closed the workbook and followed, even though the student teachers who helped teach the other prisoners were watching them both sternly. Cristiana felt nervous. She’d watched Little General Messi play before, even though it was by herself outside, and it was intimidating. She hit the ball extremely powerfully, and Cristiana saw how she almost never missed. Cristiana still was very fit, but could she keep up with Messi? She was hardly keeping up with her now as Messi headed out to the lawn. It was quiet except for a scattering of woman, the air still a bit chilled and probably at no more than 10 degrees, which was probably keeping a lot of them inside. 

“One on one, I want someone to give me a challenge. Can you give me a challenge, Ronaldo? Please tell me you’re not a useless piece of shit.”

“Oh, no, no, I can hold my own, try me.” Cristiana bristled a bit. Messi was making her feel terribly competitive, like she so often did in the gym when she would work out with other people. “Kick off, then.”

Messi scoffed. “Are you sure? I’m quite good, nobody wants to play with me because I always beat them.”

“Listen, I’m not as soft as all that and I won’t just let you win either, you here?” Cristiana was raising her voice a bit. She narrowed her eyes at Messi, but Messi was just smirking. Cristiana calmed down a bit. Messi was riling her up on purpose, she wanted a good game. Messi wanted someone to actually play her without letting her win, or being really awful. She’d given her a good game, show her she wasn’t a useless priss. Messi didn’t want someone to waste her time and just let her win, and Cristiana decided she wouldn’t let her down.

“Alright, bitch, let’s go.” 

~

“There you are. Finally. We can talk, one on one.”

Maria could see Ozil standing behind her in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. Maria was starting to hate hearing the German language. She’d managed to evade Ozil time and time again and now she was cornered. 

“I don’t know what to talk about, Ozil.”

“I want to hear all about your experiences in here, all about why you did what you did.”

“Are…” Maria carefully considered her question. “Are you a journalist? Or were you? I don’t tell that story and I don’t know why you want to know.”

“It’s intriguing, is all. Ter Stegen, I don’t understand. I don’t understand why you don’t like me. I don’t understand why you won’t just talk to me. I’m a very nice person.”

“Roberto thinks you are very nice, yes. It is interesting how Roberto seems so dazed after she hangs out with you.” Maria didn’t have proof of anything, she knew she didn’t. But she also knew what she was seeing. If Sabi couldn’t handle a car after her seizure, she certainly couldn’t now. Maria hadn’t wanted to scare Marta, but now she would see what Ozil had to say, seeing as she was now being forced to speak to her. She would speak to Marta after. Enough was enough.

“Are you accusing me of something, ter Stegen? That isn’t nice at all, I’m wounded.”

“Mm.”

Ozil’s face was starting to get a little angrier, which Maria didn’t like, but part of her was stopping her from backing down and being nice. She didn’t know what it was. The bitter part of her, she guessed. The deeply bitter part of her. She wasn’t trying to start an argument, exactly, but she had to put up some kind of barrier if she was going to protect herself. 

“We could be good pals.”

“I have to go to work, Ozil. The books we took out of the public library are due back. I genuinely have to go. I don’t want to talk about my past, okay?”

“You’re making a mistake.”

Maria didn’t want to push past Ozil. That would come off as too aggressive, but she stared hard at Ozil. Was she being threatened? Was that what that just was? It didn’t make any sense for Ozil to be this way. If she wanted a German friend, then Kroos was available, and she was much louder and harsher. She would be a better choice. Maria decided to try this. 

“Kroos is very fun, if you want more active conversation in German. I do not like chatting, in general, okay? It isn’t personal, I like to be by myself.” Maria stretched her mouth into a thin grimace of a grin, to try and look unthreatening.

Ozil’s face was unchanging, but she finally moved out of the way. Maria hurried past to get her coat. It hadn’t been a lie that she had to go. They had a share program with the public library where small groups of inmates could take out books. The library in the prison itself was okay, Maria supposed, she wasn’t much one for books, but it was a lot smaller than the public library and some prisoners wanted a bigger selection. Mostly Kun, actually. Maria glanced inside the book bag as she marched to the van with Sanchez. It was some of those Japan backwards comics, Maria didn’t remember the name of them exactly. The drive itself was quiet and Maria felt a little bit better to get away for awhile. Sanchez was also in a quiet mood, not saying anything as they popped the books in the slot and ambled back to the van, although he awkwardly reached over to find and tune the radio once they were back inside.

“Is a bit of mood music alright, ter Stegen? You seem low today.”

“You’ve reset the radio off from the prison’s frequency.”

“Does that bother you, that they can’t call and annoy us for the short trip back up?”

Maria shrugged and left it at that. She liked keeping protocol, it was okay. It made everything run as it should. But it probably wouldn’t matter if they listened to some Spanish music for the twenty-minute drive. Well, hypothetically they should be okay. It had been only a short ride with Mascherano when Sabi had crashed the car. Maria wished her brain wouldn’t automatically go right to the very worst scenario. 

“Hey, turn here, alright?”

“Why should I turn here? This isn’t the way back.”

“It’s a shortcut, look, I know. You said you didn’t know Barcelona very well, right?”

Maria sighed and made the turn. It was kind of a weird side street, but he kept directing her along past a few more streets. Maria couldn’t see how this was saving any time. 

“Oh, fuck, ter Stegen, can you stop for a second. Sorry, sorry, not fuck, I meant shoot. I actually did make a wrong turn.”

Maria pulled to the side of the road. “I’ll turn around and go back the way you sent me, retrace your steps. We will stick to the normal route.”

“Hey, wait.” Sanchez took her hand and pulled it off the wheel.

“What?” Maria’s chest felt tight.

“Do you sense anything between us?”

“No.”

“I know you’re in here for the long haul, must get so lonely.” Sanchez stroked the hand he had captive.

“Please, let’s just go home. I won’t tell that you said that, let’s go back.”

“Please. Maria, right? I know you must be.”

“Maybe you are lonely. I am not lonely.” Maria unclipped her seatbelt, but then realized she couldn’t get out of the car and run. She was a dangerous felon. She could not start running down the street. She would be found instantly, thrown in maximum security prison. She’d been in max for a few months, she knew how terrible it was. Minimum wasn’t. Minimum was supposed to keep her safe from the horrible world all around her. The world she was presently in right now. But maybe it wasn’t so safe even in the prison. Benzema had done that to Kun, Maria reminded herself. Oh god. 

“Hey, nobody has to know in here.” Sanchez reached over and pulled her big coat off. Maria grabbed hold of his hand and tried to put a deathgrip on it. 

“We are going back home. I do not want to have sex with you. I do not want to do anything with you.” Maria tried to reach over and hit the gas pedal, but Sanchez pushed her foot away.

“Why are you being like this?”

“We have only talked a little, also, it’s not right to do this, it’s not right for me and it’s really not right for you. Look what happened to your colleague, right, right?” Maria was speaking fast, and amazingly, speaking well. Some of her strength had returned over the past four years. Being safe finally, and finding courage through Ivana. This was not right and it wasn’t fair. 

“Hey, nobody will ever know in here, come on.”

Maria had enough. Maria turned away from him and reached for the door, a dangerous move, but it would get her away. Get her away until she could figure out what to do, or until this stupid man came to his senses and let her just drive. It was a terrible, terrible move, though, because Sanchez only pulled at her waistband when she reached up. 

“Fuck off, puta!” Maria turned her head to screech at him and grab at his hands. She would fight him. She would stop this. 

“INMATE! No cursing!”

“I was Maria two seconds ago! You let go!”

Sanchez kept at her pants, dragging them down. These horrible elastic waistbands. She was still turned away from him and unable to read his face, but she could still try and reach with her hand, hit the gas pedal with her hand to startle him. He must have seen what she was trying to do, because he grabbed her hand and pulled it behind her. The last chance was gone. The last final chance. Maria lay her head down on the crackly faux-leather seat of the van. There it was, as usual. Why did she think it was worth fighting? Maria stayed still. It was easier that way.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana is put in a bad position, Gwen has to confront something she'd rather not, Maria wants to take her life back, and Sabi struggles with her past vice.

Cristiana waited quietly. She hated it when she had to go sit in Zidane’s office, which seemed to be more than she liked, although she was never in trouble. She’d been called in, but now Zidane was sitting, staring across at her with his hands brought to his lips, like he was trying to think of the right words to say. 

“Ronaldo…”

“Yes?”

“Ronaldo,” Zidane sighed. Cristiana felt her was being a little overdramatic, whatever the problem was. Maybe it was all the fucking she was doing with Jamie. She knew you weren’t supposed to forge relationships like that with other inmates, but everyone did it. There would be an awful lot of meetings being called if everyone was getting called out on it. There was no reason for only her to be. 

“I’ve gotten wind of a very serious issue within these walls.”

“Oh, yes?” Cristiana felt puzzled. There was utterly no reason to think the comfort of another woman was a very serious issue when there were far worse issues going on. 

“I have heard the very serious rumour that there have been drugs circulating amongst the inmates. Do you know anything about that?”

“What?” Cristiana hadn’t. She hadn’t heard a word about it. She wondered how on earth drugs could be smuggled in. Everything seemed so tightly secured. 

“I don’t know a word about it, did someone say I did? I really don’t, I promise. You can sear—“

“Oh, no, Ronaldo. You’re a good girl. I know you are.” Zidane leaned back in his chair. “Do you suppose there would be any way for you to find out? To listen in. There could be a considerable payback for you if you did. Ways for us to give you an early release months earlier.”

“But I’d have to be a snitch?”

“Don’t look at it like being a snitch, Ronaldo. It would be a considerable help to us, and to your fellow inmates. Many of them are ex-users, and this could be very hard on them. Please, think about it. It may be very beneficial to you, and everyone.”

Cristiana stood up, brow furrowed. Zidane had a point. Drugs within the prison could be a dangerous fiasco, if it were true, but she didn’t want to stick her nose into anyone’s business. What a way to make a mess. Cristiana had worked really hard to be liked in her little circle, and she now was respected by Little General Messi. She’d eventually lost the little match to Messi, but it had been a tough loss and Messi had been delighted and invited her to play again one day. She could chuck that all away by trying to snoop into everyone’s business, and potentially wreck the life of someone she knew and liked if they were behind these apparent drugs. 

“Think about it, Ronaldo, and keep an eye out for me.”

“Okay.” Cristiana figured there was no point arguing, but was vague. Zidane seemed satisfied and leaned further back in his desk chair, indicating she could leave. Cristiana rushed out of the office, feeling grossly unsettled. 

~

Maria leaned into Ivana more than she was expecting she would. Ivana had asked to put her arm around Maria’s shoulder, and she’s agreed. It had been an overwhelming series of days, but she’d broken. She’d told Ivana, and Ivana had been so hurt and angry for her, had wanted to go to Enrique and demand action. Ivana liked action to help problems, but Maria had said no. She didn’t feel the same hurt and anger Ivana did. She thought she’d feel angrier this time, but she didn’t. It was just hollow. Ivana wanted her off the van job too. Maria didn’t know about that. Maybe there was a way to get off that duty, but she didn’t know. 

“It’s not fair, Maria, I don’t understand it, but it’s not fair.” Ivana’s face was still flushed.

“It’s not fair but it’s just what men are.” Maria knew how deep her hate for men really did go. She loved her brother, but she barely considered him the same. Maybe she should. He was a man and could hurt someone so easily, but Jean had so much more love in him, she knew he did. Jean’s failure was his inability to see when things were going wrong, not that he was terrible.

“Not every man. A lot of men.”

“Just about every man.”

Ivana nodded and didn’t say anything more. Maria wondered how Ivana processed this compared to herself. It was a curious thing, Maria realized. She didn’t think she’d ever originally been programmed to be anything other than straight. Maria remembered liking boys now and then when she was a kid, despite what was going on at home. She even thought about how handsome so many of the muscled men were at the Olympics, how she’d secretly like watching the competitions for their bodies. That wasn’t really the case anymore. Everyone had swooned over that new guard Giroud, but she’d felt nothing, and that wasn’t the only instance. Maybe that was the way things were going to be from now on. Maybe that was how her mind tried to heal, even if it was an unsuccessful effort to do so. Ivana was beautiful and sweet and Maria knew Ivana was essentially the maximum her mind could make to being attracted to someone anymore, but even then, she was anxious. Ivana was a bisexual, Maria knew, a product of her hippy period in life. Maria couldn’t even call herself that anymore. Lesbian sounded wrong too because the only person Maria wanted to hold hands with was Ivana, not a single other woman interested her. Maria knew the word she wanted to say. It was asexual, a word she had not known existed until Bale had said it once at the table when she was flapping her hand at a particularly ugly and boorish guard and insulting him with it. She’d asked Ivana to explain it later, and why Bale had used it as an insult. Apparently, she’d meant that he was so disgusting that he must be an asexual as he’d never find a partner, which seemed harsh, but the word, according to Ivana’s definition, made sense. Not having sex forever seemed like an excellent solution for a better life. Then again, it angered Maria that this apparently fantastic act had never been on her terms. Everyone seemed to love it so much, it was all anybody ever talked about. 

“What are you thinking, Maria?”

“Nothing much,” Maria wrapped her arms around her knees as they sat against the wall. “Did you like the sex you had with girls, or with boys more?”

“They both had their virtues,” Ivana seemed hesitant to get into any details in front of Maria, probably out of politeness. “I can’t say I know for sure. I think at the end of the day, if you get off, it’s alright.”

“Is it nice to get off?”

“It feels really nice, Maria.”

“Can you help me get off? I…I want to know.” Maria knew she was probably talking crazy. She was still feeling traumatized and shouldn’t be asking this absolute nonsense, not now, at least. But Ivana was safe, and she had the utmost trust in her. There was no one else to ever help her know what was missing about sex, the part everyone liked. 

“Are you sure, Maria?”

“Unless you don’t want to, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I made assumptions that, I…” Maria felt embarrassed she’d even said it to Ivana. She really was talking and thinking crazy.

“No, I mean, I don’t want you to feel you have to do anything. Of course I’ve been attracted to you, I’ve wanted so badly to be close to you all this time. I want it to be at your pace, wherever our friendship leads us. But I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything.”

“Don’t feel like I have to do anything. Just want to feel good like everyone else.”

Ivana looked very carefully over Maria’s face, before nodding and leaning in for a kiss. “I can help with that.”

Ivana kissed her a few more times, and Maria tried to mimic the action, before Ivana took Maria’s hand and picked her up off the floor of the library, their safe and silent haven. Classes for the day had ended, and Ivana quietly ushered Maria into the learning commons, shutting the door and looking satisfied with the relative peace and seclusion of the room. Maria wondered if she’d be okay, if letting Ivana touch her would make her panic. She sat on the edge of one of the tables and tried to take some deep breaths. 

“Will you let me know before you do anything?”

“Of course, Maria. Now, are you sure?”

Maria let her body relax, as much as she could. “Yes. I trust you.” 

“You wanna lay down on the table, alright? I’m going to take your bottoms off, if that’s okay.”

Maria nodded and laid down. She felt oddly at peace about all this, although she wondered if she shouldn’t. Maybe she’d still hate sex. Maybe she’d never want to do it ever again in her life. Or maybe this would change her mind. But it didn’t matter. She was going to find out for herself, she’d made the choice. Maria felt a pang of anxiousness when Ivana stripped her bottoms off, and heard herself tell Ivana to not stick any fingers in, but Ivana nodded and rubbed Maria’s leg by her calf and the anxious feeling started to dissipate again. 

“I’m going to touch your clit and maybe suck it some, if that sounds okay? Just the clit, nothing else.”

“Okay.”

Ivana knelt her head down at the end of the table between Maria’s legs and started to touch gently. Maria closed her eyes and let the new feeling wash over her. 

~

“We can just hang out together then when everyone is done at the window. Fuck Marco, man, I’d say some things to him myself if I could, if I also didn’t think things would get worse for you if I did.” Gwen always distracted herself when it was visitation day, not wanting to think about family, but it was getting harder these days to distract Sabina too. It seemed more often than not, Marco was not putting himself and Sergio on the guest list for the week, and she was getting a little despondent, even though she didn’t usually dwell on it, conversationally. 

“Don’t worry about it, Gwen, it’s fine.”

“As long as you don’t fight anyone then I’m good, I miss you too much when you’re gone.” Gwen really did, and realized it was a bit of a crutch to rely so much on one person. Part of her truly did not care, though. If she had to do what she had to do to get through the day, and Sabina’s friendship made it better, then so be it. And really, if it was her turn to give emotionally to Sabina sometimes, as was the case right now, then it really made their friendship stronger. 

“Yeah, yeah, you brat.” Sabina swatted Gwen’s bum with a rolled up old magazine, then opened it back up to finish reading it, even though the tabloid had to be at least six or seven years old. Gwen watched the women all crowd around the window of the rec room and wave, the little ritual that Gwen always thought was quite sweet. It wasn’t the women in prison that bothered her, or even most of their caretakers, as for the most part she thought they were all good people. It was the terrible, unending boredom, and being away from your family. Some women had a rougher time in prison with the other inmates, women like Sabina who just couldn’t help but act on her emotions and get in trouble for it, but that just wasn’t in Gwen. All it was, was a very long time to wait. 

The minibus must have pulled up to the doors to let the guests inside, as the women were dispersing rapidly to reach their guests quickly. 

“We should go visit Jamie, maybe, she never has guests.” Gwen sometimes visited Jamie, who was probably doing puzzles in the bedroom, her normal ritual whenever she had a quiet moment. Jamie seemed alright with the company usually. 

“Let her be, give her some “me time.” She gets a lot less than she’s used to now with Ronaldo.”

“Yeah but she likes Cris. It’s not like Cris is driving her nuts or anything.”

“Maybe.” Sabina was absently stroking one of her tattoos on her arm, tracing the letters. Gwen knew it was no accident that it was the tattoo of her son’s name, but Sabina would never talk about it. 

“Bale, are you coming?” 

“Hm?” Gwen looked up. Masche was waiting at the door of the rec room as the last woman puttered out, looking expectant.

“You have a guest, yes?”

“I do?”

“Your name is on the list. You didn’t know?”

“Um, no. Masche, I’m from the UK, nobody just nips in for a quick visit.”

Mascherano shrugged, ignoring Gwen’s lippy tone. “Well, you have a name on the guest list.”

“I’m really curious, Gwen, you should go see.” Sabina stood up and wandered over to the door. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to leave you hanging.”

“Gwen, go, this is way more interesting, I have to know now, it’s just a few hours.”

Gwen felt a bit bad, but followed Mascherano and quickened her pace to catch up with the last of the straggling ladies. Something felt very off about this. There was only really one person she knew in Spain, one person that she never thought she’d see the face of again. Sabina had to know that too. Gwen felt a little ill, a horrible sense of dread. A couple of the girls around her looked surprised to see her seat herself at a table in the corner, and they had every right to. They knew Gwen’s family and friends were a thousand miles away, literally. Gwen sat and stared at the crappy plastic table. Someone had once managed to scratch a little bad smiley face into this one, which seemed quite a feat. Maybe this was an old table that had once been in the rec room, where the tools to scratch into plastic were plausibly available. Gwen tried to take the little smiley face as a good omen, even though her heart was racing.

“Gwyneth?”

Gwen wasn’t wrong about who it was. She didn’t know if she should stand up to greet him, or if she should stay sitting. In the end, if seemed rude to sit, so she got up, her knees weak. “Sr. Dominguez.”

“Sit, sit, child.”

Gwen sat. She felt very shaky seeing him again. She guessed it had been over two years now, their last meeting one that haunted her practically every night. 

“Why did you come to see me? Is there something wrong?”

“Your Spanish has gotten very good, I see.”

“I’ve had a lot of practice.” Gwen still felt so sick. His face wasn’t angry, in fact, it looked a little softened, although older than she expected for only a little less than two and a half years later.

“And you look well.”

Gwen couldn’t understand why Sr. Dominguez was here. And he just seemed to be giving her odd compliments, compliments that she did not deserve on any planet. 

“Thank you. I…how, how are the kids? Hope they’re doing good.” It felt hollow to say it. Gwen meant it, she really did. But how could her words mean anything to him? How could anything she ever said make him feel anything other than bitter?

“They’re doing good. Sofia is learning clarinet, David wants to go to a football camp this year. Renata knows her times tables now.”

“I’m so glad.” Gwen felt her eyes fill with tears. 

“Gwyneth, I came because I saw you denied your chance at parole.”

Gwen tried to regulate her breathing even as the tears fell down her face. “How did you know that?”

“Families get told when the inmate is up for parole. So they can go to the hearing, or be aware who is going to be back in their community. We got notified about your parole hearing, then were told that it was cancelled because you said no.”

“Oh.” Gwen scrubbed at her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

“Why did you say no?”

“Because it wasn’t right. I need to be here. I wouldn’t do that to you guys.”

Sr. Dominguez nodded. “What I wondered. It takes a strong person to do that, Gwyneth.”

“I don’t deserve that, Sr., I’m not strong.”

Sr. Dominguez interrupted. “I came to tell you I forgive you.”

Gwen shut her eyes hard to keep from crying harder. “No, no, that isn’t right.”

“I do forgive you. I know little about you, Gwyneth. I know you are young. I know you had a bright future, a loving family. And I see your resolve to make right, your commitment to letting that future go in order to do that. You are not wicked, it’s taken a long time, and a lot of talks with God, for me to learn to forgive. Then when they called and cancelled your parole hearing, I knew. I knew I had to see you.”

“I am trying to make right.” Gwen was still sobbing despite herself.

“We all make mistakes in life, Gwyneth. It’s how we choose to fix it.” Sr. Dominguez got up and gestured for Gwen, who stood up obediently. He was trying to give her a hug. Gwen wiped her face off again and hugged him back. 

~

~Cardiff University, two and a half years earlier~

“Do you think you want to tell your parents about us yet? Like it’s almost Christmas holidays. Wouldn’t be a bad time.” Chibuzo shrugged as they trudged across the grounds to the safe haven of a warm lecture building. It was absolutely freezing out and Gwen wished it didn’t snow nearly so much. As it stood, everything was grey and frozen over, not the sort of pretty snow you could have fun in. 

“I don’t know yet. Don’t know if they’re ready. I want to tell them about you, just feel a bit scared yet.”

Chibuzo didn’t look entirely happy but nodded. “I mean, no rush, I guess, I just think Christmas would be a good time to do it. But it’s your call.”

“I’ll tell them soon, I’ll tell them soon. I don’t know if I want to ruin Christmas and look super bad in the eyes of my family and my perfect sister who gives them grandbabies, though.” Gwen rushed into the building and took her mittens off, blowing on her hands. She needed thicker mitts, maybe. She liked holding hands with Chibuzo on their walks but it was better when she could keep her mitted hands in her pockets. Chibuzo was similarly trying to warm up, rubbing her cheeks a bit, before wandering over to look at the big, overflowing bulletin board filled up with a bunch of rubbish. Mostly pieces of paper stuck up with numbers for essay editors, and movie posters. 

“Hey, look at this, Gwen.”

“What about it?” Gwen glanced at the flyer Chibuzo meant. It was one she’d seen before. It was talking about how to take a holiday across Europe to different, bright sunny locations in the summer, at a cheap college student price. There was a lot of different companies that offered these deals. Gwen ignored them generally. 

“We could take a trip to somewhere sunny this summer!”

“Together?”

“You don’t think it would be fun?” Chibuzo made a concerned face. Gwen hedged a bit. She knew what Chibuzo was talking about was months away, but it still seemed a little, early, to be doing that. They had become exclusive with each other, not that Gwen was seeing anyone else before this, but it was still a pretty new relationship. That was the difference between them, though. Chibuzo was courageous. Gwen wasn’t, although she was trying to be all the time. They went to more parties than Gwen was expecting. She’d even tried karaoke once. It had been a success even though she sounded bad. 

“No, I mean, we can keep it open. I’ve never left the island properly except for like two trips to Ireland on school overnight trips.” Gwen laughed to keep it light. 

“What? Travelling is the best thing in the world. You’ve gotta do more.” Chibuzo tugged the flyer off the wall and tucked it into her bag. 

~

Sabi rubbed at her nose and fell back against the side of the toilet, feeling instantly more relieved. Ozil reached up and tucked the bag back into its hiding spot in the wall and leaned against the side of the stall opposite her. 

“Sorry I made you wait, I had some stuff I was doing.”

“It’s alright.” Sabi scrubbed at her face a bit then took a deep breath. The heroin was already making its neat and tidy way into her system and she felt much calmer. She’d gone a little bit too long without it and was starting to get just a little frantic. That wasn’t good. Marta was starting to get suspicious and watchful, Sabi felt. She was letting Marta down, she knew she was. Trying to keep this from her was better. 

Ozil had given it to her just once and Sabi was miserable to admit that she had completely fallen off the wagon after having it once more. She’d gone back to the hidey-hole to look for some, but Ozil had clearly moved it after their chat. She’d hated going to Ozil, not because she didn’t like her, but because she was embarrassed. Ozil didn’t seem to mind offering more to her, but said she might as well hock it to other people in the jail and it wasn’t fair if Sabi was getting it for free. Ozil certainly had a point. Sabi had been transferring commissary money to her each week instead, which she decided wasn’t a huge loss. She didn’t do too much with the money anyway. 

Sabi wondered if her anxiety was being brought on by being back where she started, or if it was bound to come anyway. She was always anxious but was hiding it pretty well here, mostly because of Marta’s guidance. There was a horrible feeling to letting Marta down, after all she’d done for her when Sabi had first come to prison. And being off van duty and on janitorial duty wasn’t helping at all. She knew it was her own fault, that her body had been so shocked and fevered by being back on heroin that she’d had a small seizure, but it was terrible, just fucking terrible to lose it. Sabi had fucked up, fucked up her one nice thing so bad, and now Maria had the job. Sabi doubted Maria even appreciated it. 

“You making the money transfer soon?”

“Yeah, absolutely, don’t worry.” Sabi closed her eyes, really letting the magic set in. She would get off the toilet floor soon, but she just needed a minute.

“Can I ask you a question, Roberto?”

“Go ahead.” Sabi kept her eyes closed. 

“You’re a young and pretty thing, how did you get into this?”

“You ever just give up and you don’t even know why?” Sabi huffed a bit. “I just wasn’t happy. I don’t think you have to be a scrubby person to be unhappy. At least I don’t think I’m scrubby.”

“Mmm, I got it.” Ozil waited a minute more then got up. Sabi let her leave the stall. She still wanted a minute or two. 

~

~University of Barcelona, three years earlier~

“You feeling alright tonight, girl?” A girl Sabi recognized as one of her floormates who she sometimes ate dinner with was leaning over her, sloppy and a little drunk, her vodka cooler sloshing onto Sabi’s pants.

“I’m just having a rough night, I know I failed a test today and I probably failed my one before that too.” Sabi wasn’t sure why she went to this party. She’d not wanted to at all, but all her friends from high school that had come here had wanted to go, so here she was. Fat lot they were. They were doing fun things, and talking to boys. None had approached Sabi even though she’d tried to look nice enough, but maybe she was giving them a vibe that she didn’t really want to be approached. 

“Oh nooo,” the poor thing was maybe drunker than Sabi first estimated. “You could go to the learning commons and get help if you don’t get it.”

“No, that’s not it, I have some trouble sometimes but I…I dunno.” She couldn’t really explain it. Homework was challenging, but it just seemed too hard in general to get up and even start it some days. Studying seemed even more difficult because there was no tangible moment of completion. Everything just felt very crushing, so Sabi just wasn’t doing it. 

“If you need help, I have some friends that work there!” The bubble girl left again with her cooler, off to go dance badly, or some other activity. Sabi got up. She’d better find a friend. It wasn’t safe to walk home alone. She hated house parties anyway, they just seemed really stupid and juvenile. She went to them sometimes and always got a million shitty photos tagged of herself on Facebook with big, drunk grins on her face, like she was the queen of the party, but they were more stressful than they looked. Sabi guessed she just wasn’t really having it today for even pretending she was having a good time. 

She poked her head into a few of the rooms on the bottom floor, but there was nothing of interest except some people fucking in the tub of the bathroom. Upstairs might have more promise, although she was risking walking in on more people fucking. 

Instead, she found a circle of other kids on one of the beds in a bedroom, all sitting hunched up and looking very secretive, like they were in some sort of weird cult. Maybe it was some sort of weed circle. She thought she saw a bong possibly in the middle of the circle. Sabi still didn’t see any of her friends and wondered if they’d all fucked off and if she should check her phone to see if they’d told her where they were going, until one of the kids looked up from the circle. 

“Hey, you having fun?”

“Sorry man, I was just looking for some people.” Sabi hung in the doorway like she was going to leave, figuring from his voice that he wasn’t bothered.

“Wanna come have some fun with us?”

“I think I’m good.” Sabi waved their hand a little at them.

“We got shit that’ll give you such a chill if you want, just offering. It’s a party in here!”

“Well, we are at a party.”

That made the guy roar with laughter, even though Sabi hadn’t meant it to be. A chill did sound nice, not unlike her Xanax chill. 

“What have you got? I got a taste for some prescription stuff.”

“Nah, you good with other stuff?”

Sabi had a lot of eyes on her, all watching if she wanted to join the fun. Stressful as all hell. She wandered into the bedroom and climbed on the bed with the rest of them, noting that it was indeed a bong, but they had some other stuff haphazardly on the bed as well.

“Are you afraid of needles?”

“Not really. Is it safe though, to us one?” Sabi couldn’t help herself thinking of this dumb stuff they taught you in high school. Sharing needles caused disease. 

“Oh my god.” The guy took off the old needle and rummaged for a package of new ones, which was a relief, although Sabi felt a little irritated that the needle had indeed been used and he’d been completely ready to offer it to her anyway. In fact, that he’d acted a little annoyed that he had to change it.

“So what is this?”

“Show me some fat on your body, hey, alright? Like ass cheek or thigh. Don’t worry, you’re gonna love it”

Sabi pulled her pants down a little to expose part of her bum cheek, very ready to feel chill. She’d not felt it properly in ages.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar overhears something that Cristiana wants to know, while Maria and Ivana have a talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sure you've noticed several characters getting a lot more "screen time" than others recently-- this is actually intentional. As I reach the climax of several people's stories, I will wrap them up and make room to hear about more people, so watch for a couple story arcs to wrap up in several chapter's time!
> 
> Thanks!

~Zagreb, Croatia, eleven years earlier~

“Ivana, are you coming? You always have your head in the clouds!”

“I am, I am, okay! Just hold on!” Ivana shifted her backpack to both arms. The scene she was watching unfold was absolutely fascinating and it was hard to pull herself away. It was a big rally that seemed to be unfolding in front of her, a march through the middle of the street that seemed to be heading towards Parliament Place. She’d already been there today with her friends, on a tour as part of their leadership trip, and now they were off to see the National Theatre. They’d been a lot of places today, and her friends were frequently getting tired of always losing Ivana to some small nook or shop all day. She couldn’t help it. It was fun exploring. 

She wished she could talk to one of the people marching. Many of them had signs. They seemed to be protesting the building of several new energy plants. Ivana recalled seeing that on the news. Her parents had lauded it as a good thing, as it would add jobs. She didn’t know much about it, although it made her seem a bit odd. It didn’t seem right to add jobs if they were all going to crumble when the world fell apart when all the oil went away. There had to be a better way, although she didn’t dwell on it too often. She was most concerned with the animals, of course. She’d brought her parents worlds of pain and annoyance when she’d refused to touch meat as a child, but by now, they were used to it. She’d been a vegetarian for nine whole years now, and had never cracked and eaten any. She was trying to be a bit vegan, as some of the girls at school were. That was a lot harder than she expected, and she didn’t always follow that perfectly, but she supposed eating less eggs and dairy probably helped the animals still. 

Ivana supposed she’d inched far too close to the rally before she had been swept away into it a bit, but maybe she’d kind of wanted it to happen. The rally was actually really quite big, maybe a couple thousand people, and they seemed so, passionate. There were a few people yelling from the sidewalk, cursing out the protest, but somehow, that made it all the more scintillating. She probably looked quite out of place, in her school uniform and backpack and ponytailed hair, compared to all the people that looked like hippies, but that was okay. Her friends were long gone now, but she’d find them. At the very least, she would go back to the hotel later. One would turn up to yell at her, eventually. 

“Are you lost, hey?”

“Oh, no!” Ivana turned to the person marching next to her. A young woman who was maybe a few years older than her, out of high school by now and perhaps a year or two into university. Her hair was all bundled up into an overly natural-looking head wrap, and she was makeup free, but she had a warm and inviting face. Ivana decided the girl’s most noticeable feature was her hook nose, but it did not make her unpleasant to look at. 

“I wanted to join the rally, I just don’t have a lot of background.”

“Do you want some info on it? Here, here, here’s some pamphlets, ways to get involved in talking to your local representative, get right to Mesić himself, even.”

“Oh, thank you.” Ivana took the pamphlets and looked over them as she marched beside this girl. They really were quite interesting, actually.

“What made you want to come march?”

“I just saw it passing by. I’ve always taken a bit of an interest in this sort of stuff, I don’t know.”

The girl nodded. “Hey, I’m Luka, I can write down some info for you later, if you want to get even more involved. I’m with the group Akcija Hrvatska Sada, we’re dispersed, giving out extra literature. We do a lot of really dope stuff to help the environment.”

Ivana nodded. She was very impressed. “I’m Ivana. I don’t live in Zagreb right now, but thank you for the thought.”

“Oh, you can be connected with us from all over. Just a thought. Here, I have some extra smaller signs, if you want to take one and hold it up. Here.” Luka handed over a poster. Ivana felt pleased. She immediately felt very accepted by this girl. She seemed really quite good and Ivana trusted her, without hardly knowing at all. Luka moved into a round of the chant that was being most commonly shouted through the crowd, and Ivana immediately felt compelled to follow suit. To hear everyone together with such passion and purpose felt amazing.

~

Ivana stared at the patch of dirt, never covered in grass, that used to be the veggie patch. It was really the right season to get planting, if they waited any longer it would be too late. She kept trying to ask Enrique but he would wave her off, say it wasn’t important. He’d tell her they got veggies with their meals, and didn’t care that it just wasn’t the same as fresh, wholesome veggies right from the garden, organic. Anyway, Ivana was very sure that if some of the other inmates helped plant and grow them, it would be a good learning experience. Win-win. 

Maybe she’d ask again. She was having a weird day. Maria had nearly ignored her all day except for a little meal chatting, but minimal at best. It was uncomfortable. She’d asked to be touched, and Ivana had given her what she wanted, and she’d seemed okay yesterday. Today was a completely different story. She didn’t want to breath a word of it, it seemed, and she’d wanted to do her own thing today too. Ivana reminded herself that Maria probably wasn’t seeing things too clearly always, but it was still a bit of a knock to be thrown off like that. So, the garden it was. Or the ghost garden. Tomatoes had originally been its only crop, but peppers would be good. Maybe some nice berries or something, and onions. 

“Plans from the vegan mastermind again?”

“Of course.” Ivana didn’t turn around. It was Maria. She felt Maria approach and look over at the patch of dirt. She wished she were vegan. She was once a vegan. That was impossible here, vegetarian was pushing it at best. 

“Do potatoes count as vegetables or just starch? Can I say potato as my favourite vegetable?”

Maria was trying to be funny. Something felt strained about her joking. Ivana turned around. 

“I think I have to say some things.”

Maria’s face changed to fretful. Ivana didn’t take the moodiness of this morning personally. It wasn’t really about her. Maria had come yesterday, like she’d wanted. She was a silent, unmoving participant in the sex, eyes closed and face unreadable. But she’d grown breathy and jerky and flushed, until she’d abruptly reached down and grabbed hold of Ivana’s wrist tightly for her to stop. But as Ivana had very much worried, Maria probably pushed something ahead of when she really should have. Maria should have given herself time to heal before she went asking for more sex. Ivana felt guilty as all this plagued her thoughts. 

“I’m not angry or upset about yesterday. I felt something very different. You’re right. It was good.”

“I’m glad.” Ivana was patient. Maria seemed to be thinking very hard. Whatever she wanted to say, she wanted to be careful about it. 

“I think a lot about being with you. But I would be a terrible girlfriend. I wouldn’t be able to give you what you need. We…we probably wouldn’t do that again.”

“What do you mean, Maria?” Ivana was having trouble following. 

“I’m asexual. I’m sorry. I would be a very bad girlfriend. Thank you for last night.”

Ivana felt shook. Maria was clearly done her piece and waiting for a response, but Ivana was having trouble forming one. She was aware that Maria had a deep and troubled relationship with sex itself, but asexuality had never reached her mind. Of course it made sense. Ivana felt foolish for not seeing it, but she still didn’t know what to say to next. It was overwhelming to think of a relationship without sex, or even a level of romantic intimacy. Her heart was saying this was the right thing, but Ivana still couldn’t speak. Her silence was unsettling Maria, obviously. Ivana was always the one to talk to make up for what Maria lacked. 

“I’m really sorry, Ivana. I caused trouble last night. I know you like sex, it would never work.” Maria backed off and turned a bit, like she was going to walk away. Ivana finally snapped herself out of it and took hold of Maria’s sleeve. 

“Hey hey hey, don’t go.”

“No?”

“I don’t think I care about it so much, Maria. You are what you are and I’m not about to abandon trying us on because of something you can’t change.”

“But you won’t…”

“Do you like kisses, Maria?” Ivana would have gone in for the romantic kiss right there. But she knew by now that that would never be their style. 

“Sometimes.”

Ivana laughed gently. She would rephrase her question. “Do you want one right now?”

Maria nodded and leaned her head down. Ivana planted a very gentle kiss on her lips then grinned up at Maria. Her own mouth curled up into a little smile, her eyes going squinty and crinkly before grinning back. Ivana’s heart felt like bursting. 

~

~São Paulo favela community, Brazil, 8 years earlier~

“Give me the ball back, Ney, not fair!”

Neymar kicked the football back to Fernandinho. He was always the brattiest child of the bunch when they ran out to play football in the dust of the street, and Neymar would often come and dribble it away for fun until he either apologized or threatened to cry. Either way, she figured he usually learned his lesson and played nicer with the other kids after. 

“Go talk to some boys or something, Neymar, like always.”

Neymar was critical of herself for a moment. Children told it as they saw it. Perhaps she did go and flirt with too many young men, although nothing really ever came of it. Maybe God would care, however. Maybe he wouldn’t be able to see the difference, just as Fernandinho had not. 

“Oh, don’t be like that, Dinho, off you go, go play.” Neymar wandered off down the street to see if she could pop in anywhere. It was always busy around the neighbourhood, but the question was, who was willing to take a break from whatever task they were doing to visit for a while. She could go back and help her mother make supper, but she probably wasn’t needed for at least another hour. Her sister could just help out until then. Neymar knew that she frequently was away when she ought to be at home helping, but there was no fun in that. Being a social butterfly was far better. 

“Hey, someone keep Neymar away, isn’t that the same car from last week?” Neymar didn’t hear who actually said it, but she turned, and it was true. The red sports car was slowly crawling down the marketplace, but this time, they weren’t throwing coins out at the kids. Her hackles were immediately raised. She’d told them to get out of here, and she’d really risked herself to do so. They’d seemed to listen, so why were they back now? They were being awful slow, slower than even before. Neymar considered hiding away inside one of the shopfronts, but she truly did want to know what they were looking for again. It had to be whatever they were looking for last week, but she’d scared them off. 

Instead, the car slowed to a halt a couple yards away from the building she was lurking around. There were only two men in the car this time, the darker one who was driving, originally, and the white whom she had knocked the money away from. The white one turned right to her and beckoned her over. Neymar stayed still. If she didn’t move away from the group, nothing would happen to her. 

“Young lady with all the spunk!” 

Neymar continued not to move. Her people around her were yelling at the car to just drive on by, but nobody wanted to get near enough to it either to hit it, or threaten them any closer. 

“Please, I just want to talk to you!”

“Hands up, right?” Neymar could be dooming her whole community. She had no idea what they wanted. Nobody from the military was hanging around right now, either, to help out. Of course. They were always littered around until you needed one.

Both the driver and the white guy put their hands up, although they did so with a smirk and a guffaw like they thought this was stupid, as Neymar slowly approached the car. 

“What do you want?”

“So aggressive, amorzinho.” The white was still smirking. “I wanted to see the little warrior again, this time with a gift for being so bold the first time. Here.” 

Neymar took the box. It was a large, tan box with a red ribbon around it, with big cursive writing scrawled on the top. It said Christian Louboutin, which rang a bell with Neymar. She knew it was a designer brand, very fancy, although she was unsure what they made. Neymar held the box gingerly. 

“Go ahead, you can open it.”

Neymar pulled the ribbon off and opened the box. It was shoes, black stiletto heels covered with little silver spikes, with bright shocking red bottoms. Neymar couldn’t stop staring at them. They probably cost five thousand real, maybe more. She didn’t know. She’d never touched something so wealthy in her life and they probably cost more than everything she owned combined and more. She wasn’t even wearing shoes right now at this moment. Neymar almost wanted to drop them in the dust out of fear that she shouldn’t even be holding something so expensive.

“I took a guess at your shoe size, amorzinho. I went on the smaller side, as you are so petite.”

“I can’t accept this.”

“Oh, but you can, my dear. I don’t want anything in return but your name. My name is Bruno.”

Neymar stared blankly at him, holding the box. “Um, my name is Neymar.”

“Neymar, thank you sweetheart. Enjoy the shoes, and I hope we meet again.”

Bruno waved his hand a bit, and his friend started up the car again, pulling away down the street before Neymar could hand the box back. 

~

“Leo!” Neymar stamped her foot. “I always liked playing football, I said I’d play with you! But you always say you don’t want any and now you go and play with Ronaldo!”

It was frustrating. She’d offered over and over again to play with Leo, to connect with her in a way that Kun didn’t have. It hurt that she’d gone to play with Ronaldo instead. Well, actually, that she’d gone and played several matches, which she hadn’t known until she caught them in the act. Leo was just shrugging her shoulders now, unconcerned. 

“Don’t worry about it, Ney. I get a little aggressive playing. I don’t want to upset you if we played together, I don’t care what Ronaldo thinks if I do.”

“But you’ve upset me right now!”

“Don’t be hurt, Neymar.”

“I’m a good player.”

“I’m sure you are.”

Neymar threw up her hands, feeling particularly dramatic in the moment. It wasn’t fair how often she was edged out by Kun. Football was something Kun couldn’t give less of a shit about, and it was something she always wished Leo would just, engage her with.

“Why do you like having me as a girlfriend, Leo? Feel like you wouldn’t notice if I disappeared.”

“No, no, Neymar. I love you and Kun for different reasons. Separate but equal, right? I appreciate you, I do appreciate you. Maybe you can figure out how to do put together a team day or something. I just get mean playing, don’t want to take it out on you.”

Leo was better at capitulating these days, Neymar had to give her that. Even though Kun was getting enough attention for all her dumb pregnancy woes, she really seemed to have set off a desire for Leo to be a little more gracious with her girlfriends. 

“Do you really mean it, Leo? If I set up a game with lots of people would you play? I could be on your team.”

“Okay, okay, yes.” 

Neymar felt vindicated. She’d leave Leo alone now, probably to stew in her own regret for the decision, but she’d said yes and that was that. She popped a kiss on Leo’s head and marched off to see if there was a way to get permission from Enrique. 

“I don’t really care, alright! I’m living off absolute rat droppings right now, try and get some more in!”

Neymar was about to turn the corner when she heard serious, angry voices, and instead hit the edge of the wall to listen. A man and a woman, whom she couldn’t see. The only men in the prison were caretakers, either Zidane and Enrique, the doctor, or guards. 

“I’ll do my best with the next shipment, okay? You’ve got to be careful, the dried goods guy I know is getting screened to shit whenever he brings the baking goods and beans.”

That was the man’s voice. Neymar tried to peek as carefully as she could behind the edge to get a glimpse of who it was and why they were fighting, over a topic she couldn’t identify. Her peek revealed that newer girl Ozil, looking skinny and ratty, arms crossed and livid, staring up at the handsome guard Giroud. Why wasn’t Giroud giving her a citation? He didn’t look happy either, as if he had been arguing. He was easy to temper with the other girls, no matter how handsome he was. Neymar felt uncomfortable. She’d maybe back up quietly and then walk loudly back towards them, see if they’d break it up. She did so, and when she turned the corner, Ozil was indeed gone, leaving just Giroud. 

“Hello, Sr. Giroud!” Neymar waved anyway. She knew she was always too flirty with Giroud, but what could she being doing differently? He was so very striking. 

“Da Silva.”

Neymar ignored this. The guards were meant to call her da Silva, but most didn’t. She had such an eponymous name, and she knew it, that it was difficult not to call her Neymar. Giroud didn’t seem to have caught on to that by now.

“You look unhappy, is there something wrong?” 

“Go mind yourself, da Silva, and don’t think you have a need to know what’s going on in my head.”

Well then. Neymar raised her eyebrows and kept going down the way to Enrique’s office to ask about the football match. Giroud really was in a bad mood. 

~

Cristiana felt like biting her nail, something she never did. She’d been anxious for days even since Zidane asked her to look around for any drugs, or to listen in. He seemed particularly watchful of her, and yet she still hadn’t worked up any nerve. She hadn’t seen anything offhand, but nor had she asked anyone else. Ironically, Jamie was trying to carefully apply a coat of dark red nail polish to Cristiana’s fingers, which would at least deter her from any more thoughts of biting nails for awhile. Nail polish was one of those stupid things that was technically not allowed in the official prison book of rules, but nobody cared and nobody stopped them. Lots of girls wore nail polish, and Cristiana genuinely wondered how so many got ahold of it if it was meant to be illegal. It seemed the prison was full of these arbitrary rules that nobody abided by, but it made it easier to have a little fun. 

“Jamie?”

“Mmmmmmmhmm?” Jamie was not in a chatty mood. She’d just wanted to sit and do something quiet together, and specifically said quiet half a dozen times at Cristiana. Concentrating on painting nails was as quiet as you could get without just picking up a book and reading by yourself. 

“Have you heard about drugs in the prison?”

“Is this going to be a joke about the cocaine in my pussy, or?” Jamie said this in a deadpan manner, which Cristiana found funny, but it really wasn’t a funny matter in general, what she was trying to spit out.

“No, no, like, you hear a lot of shit, has anyone been using any drugs in here right now?”

“Not really, no. Did you see something that’s bothering you?”

“Zidane said there’s drugs in here and he wants me to find them out.”

“I wouldn’t, no point getting involved. Wouldn’t you be upset if it was like, someone in our group that you outed with that? Just mind your own business, babe."

“He’s just really relying on me.”

“Don’t buy into that. If you promise not to tell goddamn Zidane, I have heard there’s drama from one of the German inmates, don’t know what capacity.”

“It wouldn’t be Kroos, so that’s down to two.”

“Absolutely it could be, but I don’t know what the drama is. Can’t be that frickin’ hard to figure out, there’s three of them. I’ll try and see what their beef is, alright?”

Cristiana nodded. She’d put money on ter Stegen causing drama, absolutely. She was weird and silent and still didn’t really like Cristiana, and Cristiana at times was reminded that whatever ter Stegen had done, she was serving ten years for it. Maybe she had something to do with all this. It was impossible to tell with anything she ever did, but someone that silent had to have a lot going on that nobody knew about. 

“Okay, you’re done.” Jamie flapped her hand over Cristiana’s fingertips to try and dry them a bit. 

“Thank you.” Cristiana did feel nicer with her nails painted. She never actually did them too often before prison, as they’d often get ruined at the gym, but it really was a nice, feminine thing to do, whenever she would go for a manicure somewhere. “Now what should we do?”

“Not much we can do, now, your fingers are all wet.” Jamie and Cristiana had both been sitting on the counter of the bathroom, and now that Jamie was done focusing, she leaned against the mirror.

“I mean, you don’t need fingers to do everything, we can find something to do.”

“Find me something for us to do without fingers, go on, I dare ‘ya.”

Cristiana felt impish and jumped off the counter. “You know, Jamie, you said you wanted to be real quiet today. I think I can solve how to keep me quiet AND without fingers.”

“Yeah?”

“If you just take off your top.”

Jamie smirked, understanding what Cristiana wanted, peeling off her shirt like she was told, unhooking her bra as well. It was nice to have someone like Jamie, who so easily understood innuendo because she often was the one giving off subtle hints herself. Jamie scooted herself closer to the edge of the counter to be in easier reach for Cristiana.

“Go’wan then, Cristiana.”

Cristiana leaned in, giving Jamie’s left nipple an appreciative suck. Cristiana felt she probably worshipped Jamie’s breasts just a little too much, but they ought to be worshipped. They deserved it. Jamie was making gentle, pleased noises, especially when Cristiana teased Jamie with her tongue, brushing over the nipples as lightly as possible with the very tip of her tongue. Jamie wrapped her arms around Cristiana’s neck and made one of her more shrill noises, the sort Cristiana was increasingly getting used to whenever they fooled around with each other. Once she was all done, Jamie would reciprocate, and really, Cristiana couldn’t think of a better way to spend the afternoon. 

~

~Funchal, Madeira, Portugal, 11 years earlier~

“CRISTIANA! You’re going to make the both of us late, come on honey!”

“In a minute, in a minute!” Cristiana clung to the edge of the toilet seat, wiping her mouth. That should be all of it, she thought. Not that she ever ate much for breakfast anyway. It was always a bit of a throwaway meal, easy to get rid of. Cristiana stood up and went to make sure her makeup wasn’t askew. It was just church anyway, she could sit and not worry about exerting herself too hard and fainting, or something. It had happened once at school, although she’d done her best to not make it a big deal. Cristiana finished wiping away any spittle and washed her hands. 

“Is Katia coming? Is she meeting us there?”

“Well, she said she was going to, we’ll see if she shows up this time. Come on, love.”

Cristiana took her mother’s arm and followed her out to the car. She rather hoped that Katia would not be attending. Everyone always asked how she was doing, told her how pretty she was and how they hoped college was going well. They still kind of glanced over Cristiana, no matter how much she was trying. She wasn’t yet ready to apply to colleges and she knew she was still gross and ugly, even after all the makeup she tried. She religiously read teen magazines to make sure she was doing it right, and her mother just laughed about it, telling her she was being silly. She knew her mother thought it was just a hobby, a conceited high schooler habit.

It was the same with eating, these days. She would do anything for her mother to think she was just, being normal. At school, she didn’t eat, but that shit didn’t work at home. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair that Katia was so skinny and she didn’t even do anything about it, but this was what Cristiana had to do to in order to be the same size. It meant she never had the energy to do gym class, and she’d sometimes get tired even walking somewhere with friends, but that was that. 

There was always a still and strange moment before they went into the church where whatever family was around would go and briefly pray at her father’s grave. It always made Cristiana uncomfortable, if she was honest. Her mother would get a little upset, pray deeply for him, and cuff any of her children over the head if they didn’t have their own heads down praying as deeply as she, but Cristiana found it odd. Mother never talked well of father, rarely in life and not even on his death. It was strange she did this now, but she supposed grief was a funny thing. She felt grief herself, but it was a strange, stinging sort of guilty grief, like she wasn’t as heartbroken as she ought to be. She did miss him, but Cristiana hated to admit to herself that there was less stress having to rely on someone so, unreliable. 

“I’m here, I’m here, I made it, look, mom.” Katia ran up towards the grave, interrupting the prayer. Cristiana looked up despite herself, and felt irritated. Katia looked haggard from last night, her church outfit slung on and her hair messy. Hungover. Just like dad. Cristiana wished she hadn’t even shown up.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Group Birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Let me know how you're still liking everything, if you are! 
> 
> Also, my apologies, I just added in ANOTHER narrator, so there we are, enjoy the introduction of Toni Kroos as a story we're going to look into!

Kun dangled her legs aimlessly, feeling anxious. She almost never had to go to the supervisor’s office, and she knew she had to, but it was still unpleasant. Enrique was staring at her, silent and not willing to engage in conversation, while they waited for Zidane. Apparently he had to be there too, to discuss the options. Options for the baby. Kun knew they had to talk about this, she did, but it was just a conversation she didn’t want to get into. Kun knew she did this. It was easier to put things off and pretend reality wasn’t happening, until things crumbled into a pile of dust. 

“Are we ready, Aguero?” Zidane stepped into the office and closed the door quietly. He didn’t look upset. He had a couple pieces of paper, probably different options to show her, and Kun tensed up. 

“Yeah, okay.” Kun tried to smile. There was no point in being unfriendly to them. 

“We’re looking at two options that we think would be best, and we want you to consider them both carefully.” Zidane handed over the papers. “There is another women’s prison several hours away that allows children up to age five to stay with their mothers.”

“Yes?” Kun looked at the paper closer. It had info on this prison, and it seemed alright. Kun felt a bit dubious. It sounded like a good idea, she supposed, but she’d be away from everyone she knew. Well, she’d be with the baby. That would be something.

“There is a second option, Aguero.” Zidane paused dramatically before restarting. “We could find a foster family for the child until you are out of prison. Now, I don’t want to sway you, it is your choice, but I want you to see this, the second set of papers there. It’s information on how children in prison have a worse start in life, a study that was done.”

Kun kept staring at the paper, although she wasn’t really reading it now. That wasn’t good. She wouldn’t be by the baby. No. Nope. 

“You guys put a lot of work into finding this info for me. You didn’t need to do all this.”

“We want to make sure the best solution is found, Aguero. We can’t…we can’t have these sorts of incidences becoming a big…issue.” Enrique still looked serious. 

“You don’t want me to say that I’ve been mistreated here.”

The both of them stayed silent and Kun knew she had her answer. “I don’t really know yet. I don’t know. I don’t think I can decide right away."

“Alright.” Enrique sighed. “Just, keep the forms. We want to reiterate, that both options are applicable, we would transfer you and the child would be under your care within the prison. But look at all the literature. If that is the decision you make, we will undertake finding you some foster parents to interview.”

“Thank you.” Kun didn’t even know what she was feeling. She shuffled up the papers and stood up. “I’ll let you know really soon. This is good information, thank you, thank you so much.”

~

~A few hours out of San Diego, eight years earlier~

Kun looked around. This guy’s office was weird. Cool, in a sense, but weird. There were tons of walls of shelving filled with different figurines on one side, a bookcase filled with comics on the other. The figurine shelf had a lot of things still in boxes, and signed, and Kun wondered how many people this guy had met that were very famous. There were posters anywhere that fit, in a way that seemed past just a comic-book nerd and moving onward to just strange. Peter Matthews was the guy’s name, and Kun had laughed privately and how boring this white guy’s name was, but she was being gracious. He’d invited her over to talk about her work and she was determined to love this man and all he was going to do for her no matter what. 

Looking at all these figurines and thinking about the convention, Kun decided that she definitely needed to have a cosplay ready for the next time she attended one. She’d decided she was too out-of-place without one, and it was always something she wanted to do anyways. Someone from The Last Airbender, she thought would be best. After all, it was her favourite show, she’d find someone that looked the most like her. 

“So you’re just on a short trip, eh?”

“Yes, not too long now. I’d be willing to extend the trip if I make things happen.” Kun grinned. 

“I mean, I think we could definitely develop a really good relationship here, Kun. I think we have something really gold here.”

“Who are some of the people that you’ve been in contact with? It seems you have so many special things here.”

“Oh, we have lots of time to get to all that, Kun. Tell me more about yourself.” 

“Oh, um, I don’t do a whole lot, you know. I like a lot of things, I do, but for the most part, I just draw, I draw and I draw and that’s what I love.” 

“I think I could first work at helping you translate this to English. But you know, I’m very busy a lot, I want to help you Kun, I just want us to work out a deal. It’s not fair if I do all this work to help you and get nothing in return.”

“A deal, of course.” Kun nodded. “I mean, I don’t have a lot to give, but I’m a hard worker.”

“I’m glad to here it.” Peter Matthews shifted in his squishy computer chair, and Kun sensed a change of energy in the room. His legs were more open, and it wasn’t a lot, but Kun got what he meant. She had no way of making money to give to him. He was asking for a very different sort of exchange. Kun felt her skin crawl a bit, but she weighed her options. Nobody else had liked Valentina. She would go back to Argentina empty-handed and heartbroken without his help. Was her skin crawling as much as it should? Not really. Maybe her common sense was skewed, she didn’t know. Kun got up off her own chair and took her hair tie off her wrist, bundling her hair into a lazy bun to get it off her face, before dropping to her knees in front of him. Peter Matthews looked pleased, like he knew he was getting just what he wanted with no effort, and unbuttoned his pants for her. Kun steeled herself for the worst. He was an ugly, ugly man, and didn’t look as clean as he could be. His dick could be terrible. 

Yet, in the end, it wasn’t that bad. It was passable, a liveable enough dick that Kun didn’t feel disgusted. He had seemed really pleased and made sure to note all her contact information, asking her to call tomorrow so they could get real talks underway. It all seemed very fair, Kun decided. But that was that. She wasn’t going to go home to Argentina empty-handed. She wasn’t going to go back to Argentina. Valentina Rabia was going to become a success, and goddamit, she was going to do things the way she wanted. Kun decided she would stop at a drugstore on the way home, as she would need an electric razor. She was going to do everything she wanted, anything impetuous. She wanted to cosplay, she would cosplay. She would go as Sokka from The Last Airbender, she had the right complexion for it. Shave off all the sides of her hair, leave it long in the middle for a bun like Sokka. America was the way for her future to be successful, and there was no turning back now. 

~

Cristiana scrubbed at her eyes with a little scrabbly, already damp piece of toilet paper, trying to stop the crying. This was stupid. Would she ever stop crying about the stupidest shit in the world? Probably not. Cristiana had been hit with the thought that it was her birthday in a week, and it had just set her off again. She’d had to leave during the break of the afternoon aerobics, which was just stupid and infuriating for her. She was making a mountain out of a molehill, really. She’d made it through Christmas. She’d be okay, and she had Jamie. She’d make it. And yet, here she was having a meltdown anyway, ruining her makeup and trying to desperately save it. Nobody had noticed she’d left in a huff, or if they had, they didn’t care. Cristiana was perfectly aware that her histrionics would have to stop eventually, and yet, every time she was hit with some new revelation of what she was lacking in prison, they came back.

There were footsteps coming in the bathroom, then a sharp intake of breath from whoever was behind her. Cristiana put down the wad of toilet paper and stared into the mirror to see who was behind her without turning around, and saw Neymar. Cristiana didn’t really ever speak to Neymar a lot, even though she ran the aerobics class, which Cristiana tried to take part in as much as she could muster because it was good for her. Neymar was loud and brash and ran a very exhausting aerobics class, but that was good. Cristiana admired her for her control over the class, and didn’t mind following Neymar’s orders, even if she was always used to being the one to give the orders to others regarding exercise. Other than that, however, they never spoke. Now, Neymar was looking very upset that Cristiana was crying and marching on over. Great. 

“Ronaldo! What’s the matter? I noticed you didn’t come back to finish, did someone say anything? Did I say something? What’s wrong?” 

“No, no, it’s not you.”

“Then what’s the matter? You’re like my best student out there, you gotta go guide the rest of the girls.”

“It’s really stupid, Neymar, I just gotta settle down then I’ll come back out.”

“Did you have a fight with your girlfriend? I have a lot of squabbles with Leo.” Neymar nodded firmly. Cristiana always got the sense that her bubbly, youthful exuberance made her very naïve, as she always seemed so young and new to everything.

“No, Jamie didn’t do anything.”

“What is it?” Neymar pushed herself up to sitting on the counter. She nearly always just wore one of the t-shirts you could buy at the commissary, without any hoodie or overshirt, and Cristiana knew that about half the time she went without a bra. Today must not have been one of those days because she was leaping around exercising, which was a bit of a shame. 

“It’s my birthday in a week, I don’t know, it’s stupid, I just usually have a nice party with family and friends and stuff, I know, it’s dumb.”

Neymar’s mouth opened up into a delighted smile. “Your birthday! What day, what day?”

“The fifth, coming up there.”

Neymar clapped her hands together. “Ronaldo! That’s my birthday! You can be a part of Group Birthday!”

“Really? What’s Group Birthday?”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t know why but a bunch of my friends have a birthday all right in the same area of time. Um, um, it’s me, and Geri, and Sabi, and Rafa, and Marta kinda misses it but her birthday was recently, and that new girl Suarez’s birthday was just a bit earlier this week so she can take part if she wants, and anyway, yeah.” Neymar said it all in one breath, clearly excited. 

“Oh. But that’s all your friends, it’s okay.”

“No, no, you can come take part in Group Birthday. Now that there’s two of us on the same day we’ll make the party the fifth, okay? Bring your girlfriend, okay? It’ll be fun. I mean, I don’t wanna be mean but don’t bring anyone else from your group because that’ll piss everyone else off, I mean Bale will probably come and that’s okay, but nobody cares about Jamie Rodriguez because she’s really fucking boring so go ahead.”

Neymar was grinning so Cristiana shook off the immediate need to defend Jamie from the insult. Jamie wasn’t boring, she was reserved. When she felt like talking, she was full of stories, either from her own life or just gossip from within the prison, and she was interesting as hell, but Cristiana doubted Neymar meant any harm. In fact, probably calling her boring was meant to clarify that she wasn’t a problem, which in a way, was a compliment. 

“That sounds nice, Neymar, thank you. It will be good to be surrounded by friends.”

“Good, good, okay.” Neymar clapped her hands once more together, before jumping off the counter and taking Cristiana’s hand to pull her back along to finish aerobics.  
~

Toni tapped her finger against the table over and over, unable to get a handle on making it stop. She was tapping her foot too, in rhythm to her finger tapping, making the whole table vibrate. Someone once told her that burned calories, and it probably did. 

“Are you listening, Toni?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Toni hadn’t remotely been listening to her lawyer. There were a million other things to think about. She could think about the pile of spoons that nobody cleaned after the lunch shift today in the kitchen. Or a haircut. Her hair was getting a little too shaggy, trying to reach her ears and threatening to tickle them now and then. Or the stain on the wall on her roommate’s side of their room that looked a little bit like a dick. 

“Did you want to repeat what I just said back to me?”

“We’ve made great strides in the case.”

“Try again.” Her lawyer looked exhausted and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. 

“I don’t know, what then?” Toni leaned back in her chair to try and watch the table behind her, see what they were talking about. 

“I said, our best course of action is to go the route of your mental health, say you’re not guilty because you were not in the right frame of mind.”

“Go ahead, I don’t care.” Toni brought her chair all the way back to look forwards. Her family very much wanted her out of the prison system, and they were working on it pretty hard even though she was far away. She couldn’t really ever imagine why. She was always the odd duck at home that all her cousins quietly laughed at, and even her parents sighed and tutted too much. But they could do what they want. 

“Are you going to cooperate with that stance?”

“Yeah, I’ll cooperate.”

He went blathering on into a million more details, but Toni had already lost the plot. She was watching the newer guard Giroud, analyzing his every flinch and motion. She didn’t like him. He put a lot of pomade in his hair and she imagined it was crunchy to touch. No need to put so much pomade in, he shouldn’t be trying to impress anybody. But that wasn’t why she didn’t like him. Giroud was shifty and always in the kitchen, it seemed, trying to pry at and annoy the other cooks. He’d stay whenever there was a shipment and sniff around, picking at all the food and saying he was there to inspect the quality and make sure nothing was getting in that shouldn’t. The other women shrugged him off, but Toni had told him to get out of the kitchen if he wasn’t going to be helpful and get a hairnet and apron on himself once. She’d gotten a citation for it, but it was just how she felt. No point in mincing words. 

“Toni! What am I going to tell your mother about you!”

Toni snapped her head back. “What’s the matter? I was listening to you fully.”

~

~Griefswald, Germany, thirteen years earlier~

“Stop! Please, please, stop! Please leave me alone!” Toni covered her head and tried to lay still on the ground in a ball, like her mother always said to do if things came to blows. It didn’t seem to stop Hanna and Clara and Leni, who just started to kick instead, mostly just getting the sides of her arms and her back. It still hurt, hurt so bad, having it done over and over again.

She felt one of the other girls trying to drag her upwards so her face was visible again, and Toni tried hard to make herself floppy like a cat to make it difficult. The other girls joined in again, pulling her face up. Toni wondered if they had made her face bleed or not, if her lip was. Her face was wet, but there were enough tears and some of the girls’ spit that she didn’t know, and she was afraid to lick around the edge of her mouth to find out.

“Don’t know what I’ve done to you! I don’t know! Please, please! I’ll tell the school!”

“Going to tell your mommy, then, Kroos? Like that will help!”

Toni tried to turn her head away so she wouldn’t have to look any of them in the face. She didn’t understand it, she just didn’t understand it. She tried to always leave them alone, give the girls a wide berth in class. She knew she was a little funny. She didn’t mean to be odd, with her habit of making a collection out of anything, and her struggle for sitting in still in class to the point that her teacher gave her a squishy exercise ball as a seat so she could get her extra energy out. But she was odd, and she knew she was odd, and it made them hate her. Toni hated them back, even though mama had always said not to hate anyone. 

“Hey, hey, keep holding her, I know something that would be really funny.” Leni let go of Toni and headed for her school bag, taking out her pencil case. Toni’s head ached from where they’d already hit, but she tried to focus her blurry eyes on what Leni was getting. It was a pair of school scissors, not much use for anything and not pointy. They couldn’t hurt her with those, they’d be better off with a pencil. What were they doing?”

“Keep her still, keep her still.” Leni came over with the scissors, and Toni became suddenly all too aware of what she intended to do with them. She started to scream, before Hanna hit her in the stomach then tried to cover her mouth. Toni wished the school yard wasn’t empty, knew she was meant to be home by now. She’d tried leaving school slowly to avoid them, and instead, she’d gotten an abandoned school yard and three leering trolls, laying in wait.

“PLEASE, please don’t do that!” Toni tried to beg, but it was too late. Leni was grabbing a lock of her hair, trying to cut it, the dull scissors working poorly but the clump of hair falling to the ground anyway. Toni tried to shove them off, but Leni kept working, awkwardly and unevenly on purpose, some clumps chopped right from the top of her head, others long enough to be down to her ears, the ends of her hair getting chewed apart from the terrible scissors. They were still doing their best to cover her mouth, and all Toni could do was sob and continue to struggle. What would she tell mama? How much hair was left? Would it be so bad that they’d have to shave her head, or could any of it be saved? How could they be so heartless? All the girls at school had long, or at least medium-length hair. They wanted her to stand out even more, be more of a confusion and oddity and pariah. 

“Are you done, Len?” Clara straightened up when it seemed most of Toni’s hair was gone, dropping her.

“Yeah, come on, let’s go.” Leni got up and grabbed her backpack, signaling the other two to follow. They wandered off, leaving Toni slumped on the ground. She felt like she couldn’t move, and she was terrified to feel her head and see how much was left. 

One of them had left their backpack, Toni saw. She still felt like she could maybe stand up, but it was easier to crawl over to it. It was full of stupid, frilly girly things, she saw, like pencil cases with flowers, or hand cream with flowers on the bottle, or tampons, also with flowers on the wrapper. And at the bottom, a bracelet. Toni took it out. The inside engraving noted that it was indeed real gold, and she wondered if the little jangly charm with the crystals in it were real diamonds. Either way, it was nice. A further engraving told her that this was a gift from their father. Huh. Toni slipped the bracelet into her pocket before slowly getting to her feet, shifting the backpack back properly to where she had found it. 

~

“Are you really sure they want me to come, Cristiana? I’ll be honest, I don’t even know why you want to go.” 

“Neymar said you were fine to come, I guess they’re all okay with you over there.” Cristiana stopped herself from telling Jamie was Neymar had really said, as that would only serve to make bad blood. “She said Gwen would be there anyway.”

“Gwen probably will be. Whenever she sees events and things she likes to drop by. She’ll go to any group.”

“I saw her hanging out with the old folks group recently, yeah.” Cristiana nodded. She almost reached out to hold Jamie’s hand, remembering they couldn’t do that right in the middle of the prison hallway. 

“You know, I think Ramos was going to do something for you today, she said that you could stop by to her after the party.”

“Did she really?” Cristiana was surprised. Ramos just never seemed fond of her, and she suddenly felt a bit guilty. If Ramos had been willing to throw a little party for her, and she ruined that opportunity to go to Neymar’s party, maybe she’d suffer later. 

“Don’t worry about it. Gwen was telling me about it, just go hang with them later. Ramos isn’t mad, I don’t think. It’s your birthday and she didn’t tell you she wanted to do anything.”

“Why would she want to do anything for me?”

“She doesn’t hate you.” 

Cristiana nodded again and poked her head into the recreation room. There were actually streamers in the room, which was cute. She thought they were leftover from one of the parties for one of the supervisor’s birthday parties. There was a little table with a cake, which was surprising. It wasn’t a big cake, but it was there. Cristiana didn’t have any dealings with the kitchen, so she turned to Jamie. 

“Oh, yeah, I thought some of the girls were snaffling extra flour at the bottom of bags for that. The guards don’t rip into you if you do this stuff, Cris, they don’t care. What’s a cake going to hurt?”

Cristiana decided it was like nail polish and went over, smiling. These were all people she hardly ever spoke to, except for Rakitic and ter Stegen, and she supposed Little General Messi, who she reckoned would not want to be chatty with her today. Neymar had brought in almost the entirety of the Brazilian table, who Cristiana barely knew at all, except Mama Marcelo. Neymar looked up from this crowd anyway, absolutely delighed to see Cristiana. 

“You’re here! You came! Happy birthday, buddy!”

Cristiana was not aware they were buddies but went over to accept Neymar’s hug anyway. 

“Could you actually do me a huge, huge favour before you get settled in to the fun? I know we have balloons, I know we do, but I think I forgot them. The streamers are just from the basement stock room, I think the balloons are there, could you run and grab them really fast?"

“Oh, um, yeah. Are we allowed to go down there, even?” Cristiana wondered why Neymar was asking her to go down, rather than literally anybody else, but she figured Neymar often didn’t have a lot of heavy thought process going on all the time. 

“Of course we are! It’s just storage, we’re allowed to go get things when the guards or Enrique realize we need stuff. It’s not a big deal, go down the stares towards the solitary confinement and go right instead.”

Cristiana nodded and turned back. She knew where the solitary confinement stairwell was, and it made her skin crawl a bit going down the stairs towards it. She knew there were women down there right now, and she didn’t even know how long some of them had been down there for. She knew Ramos made frequent trips to solitary confinement, and Kroos had said she’d been down there, and she thought Pepa might have, but she had no idea what it was like. She turned a right anyway into the rather dusty storage room and flicked the light on, taking a basic glance around. Great. Neymar had given no instructions on which box might have party supplies. She’d rustle around, she guessed, hoping Neymar left the party supply box somewhere out in the open. Cristiana took a big box at eyesight off the shelf to start. It would have to be somewhere near the front, it would have to be. 

There was something a bit odd behind the box, though, and Cristiana carefully put it down at her feet in case there was breakables in it. There was a smaller box, but it was plastic and the lid was open. It wasn’t dusty like everything else, like it had been touched recently. Cristiana pulled it closer and looked inside. 

Fuck. Bags and bags of white powder. Little small plastic bags, all sealed and marked with various little marker scribblings. There were also small balloons in the bag, unused, but much too tiny to ever be a balloon used at a party. Cristiana was in shock. All the drugs Zidane had talked about. In her hands. Cristiana looked around anxiously at nothing in particular, unsure of what to do with box in her hand. Did she bring it up? Did she go upstairs and snitch? What did she do?

There was a little note sitting wedged beside one of the bags, and Cristiana pulled it out. It was handwritten, and a little messy, and it really brought a chill to her heart. It was all in German, all of it. There was no question. Of course it had to be ter Stegen, like she thought. Like Jamie had heard, that a German was causing problems. Ter Stegen had been even more shifty and dodgy than usual as of late, flinching more often and looking incredibly strange whenever she went out for one of her drives with a guard. It made sense too. She could bring it in, somehow, because she was allowed off the prison grounds. Cristiana jammed the note back in the box and shoved the box back away. She had to get out of here, she’d tell Neymar she couldn’t find the balloons. She didn’t know what to tell Zidane, but she had to, she knew she had to. Cristiana fled upstairs as quickly as she could, wishing she wasn’t going to be at a party with ter Stegen, and wishing she could just go and tell Jamie what she’d found in private.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana tells Zidane about her discovery.

“And that’s all I know.” Cristiana swallowed, waiting. Zidane’s face looked very, very solemn, looking at the German note, before folding it and putting it on the table. 

“We will make sure it will be removed immediately. Thank you, Ronaldo. I knew I could trust you.”

That didn’t make Cristiana feel at all good, although she supposed Zidane had meant it to be a compliment on her character. She’d talked to Jamie about the box, and the note, and Jamie had said to leave it alone and drop it. Jamie had been a little harsh with her, actually, saying it was none of her business at all and she was letting Zidane use her with this shit, and to just put the note back and pretend like this never happened. But it still weighed heavily on her conscience, to the point where she couldn’t stand it anymore. Somehow, though, Cristiana wondered if it was the right choice. 

“And you are quite sure that you do not know who it is?” Zidane sounded pretty accusatory. Cristiana guessed what he meant, that maybe she’d stolen the note from Kroos, and wasn’t saying so to protect her. Zidane wasn’t stupid. He knew Kroos was a friend, however ornary she was. Cristiana struggled with this. She could name names, and she was certain she knew, but that didn’t seem right. 

“I don’t, no. I mean, a lot of people speak German here. I sit at a table full of people that speak different languages, you know?” That seemed safe. Don’t implicate anyone specifically. 

“Who do you know that speaks German, Ronaldo?”

“I mean, nobody particularly. A lot of us are well-travelled, the girls I sit with. I think a lot of girls probably know bits and pieces.”

“Do you know any?”

“Erm, no. I’ve never been to Germany, or anywhere that speaks German.”

“Mmmmm.” Zidane leaned back in his chair. He looked unhappy with the way this conversation was turning out. Cristiana didn’t know what else to tell him. He could guess who to target, he’d asked her if she knew anything about the drugs, and she’d given the information. What more did he want?

“May I go?”

“Yes. Can I trust you are maintaining discretion? I know we can trust you.”

He was at it again, that trust shit. Cristiana hadn’t, obviously, as she’d told Jamie. But she nodded anyway. 

~

~Griefswald, Germany, nine years earlier~

“You really want to do this with me? You really mean it?” Toni was feeling a lot of disbelief. A little bit of euphoria too, maybe. She’d never imagined that someone like Erik might have had a crush on her this whole time. It was almost like some fantasy story that any lame high schooler might have, to think the most popular boy in school would actually have feelings for the strange girl. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve always had feelings for you, Toni.” Erik reached for her pants button, which Toni let him undo. She was never invited to parties. But he’d actually asked if she wanted to go to the big one he was throwing for senior year. Well, nearly every kid had been invited, except for the ones that were super weird. She guessed she didn’t make the cut this year as one of the weirdest in the school, which was something. She thought she usually did. Most of the time, she was left with the stragglers, the kids that had something physically wrong with them, or were too into a weird hobby, or had stuff like autism. The misfits that nobody tried to hear out. But now, she was in Erik’s parent’s bedroom alone with him while the rest of the party continued downstairs. 

“You really have?”

“Yeah, totally.” Erik ran his hand through her hair a little bit. “Why do you always like your hair so short? Bucks the trend a bit, doesn’t it?”

“Just do.” Toni shrugged. That wasn’t it. After she’d had most of her hair shaved off in year 8, it hadn’t seemed worth it to grow it long again. Part of her was always a little nervous that someone would try to cut it off again, but the other part of her kept it short as a little protest. If short hair was meant to humiliate her, then she would own it instead.

“I like it.” Erik kissed her a bit before tugging again at her pants. Toni let him take them off. Truly amazing. Toni had never had sex, and it seemed very fun and exciting to have it on his parent’s bed, another aspect of the teen movie perfectly coming together. 

“Do you want me to take my top off?”

“Mmmm, no time, someone could walk in any time, Toni. Let’s just do this, let’s do this, you and I.”

“Yes, yes, okay.” Toni pulled her underwear down, feeling grateful that it was rather dark in the room. Had she fantasized about this before? Of course. But there was something still scary about showing that body part off, especially as she hadn’t prepared for the thought. Erik was pulling his own pants down, and Toni could still see in the darkness what it looked like when he grabbed his dick, tugging at it roughly to make it hard. Bit of a weird sight. Toni didn’t think it would look like that. She honed in on his watch. It was really, really nice. A Bvlgari one, she thought, even in the dark light. She had a penchant for knowing nice, expensive things. Maybe she was part crow, she didn’t know, but she had a real penchant for walking off with the nice, expensive things, even if they didn’t end up anywhere. Toni had a box under her dresser filled with stupid pieces of jewelry from her bitchy classmates. She didn’t know why. It was just a nice, secret way to get back at them when they were mean to her, and nice to look at, all together with the rest of her prizes, alone. She wouldn’t worry about the watch, though. Erik liked her. 

“Hey, get on top of me, like, ride me, right? It’s easier.”

Toni did what she was told, and really, it was such a strange feeling. Like a really big, unwieldy, uncomfortable tampon that was put in wrong, or something, but she persevered anyway. Erik now seemed a bit uncomfortable, looking to the side of the bed instead of up towards her, so Toni tried to take control, turning his head back to her. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, baby.” Erik held her hips and rocked just a little, and Toni tried her best to reciprocate, but something felt wrong, different than what had been going on just minutes ago. She was going to stop, ask him what was going on again, when suddenly the door to the bedroom was slammed open and there was a camera flash. 

Laughter. Loud, raucous laughter of many boys. Erik was pushing her off, scrambling off to get his pants. The light was flicked on, more laughter. Toni felt highly overwhelmed, but zeroed in on Erik. He was laughing too. This was a joke? What the fuck kind of joke was this? 

“What’s going on?” Toni asked, although it felt hollow.

“I can’t believe she fucking bought it, man, you have such a good chance to win, you have such a good entry.”

“Can’t believe I bought what? Entry to win? A contest?” Toni felt like she should be scrambling for her pants faster too, but instead, she was just reaching for them now, feeling numb. 

“Just get out, just leave her, just leave.” The boys were jostling to get Erik out of the room, but Toni snapped out of it, tugging her pants up and running over, grabbing hold of Erik’s wrists to keep him in the room. 

“CAN’T BELIEVE I BOUGHT WHAT?” Toni could feel Erik struggling to get out of her grasp, but she held on tight. 

“Nothing, nothing, jesus, let it go. It’s just a dumb thing some guys set up.”

“To fuck the weird girls, is that it?! You FUCK, you fucking user FUCK!” Toni let go of his wrists, and all of the boys ran out of the room, leaving her in the bedroom alone. Toni sat back down on the bed, unsure whether she felt more angry or more hurt. Angry, maybe. Angry that she should have known better.

At least she’d gotten the last word, really, without his knowing. Toni stared at the Bvlgari watch on her lap. It had to be worth at least ten thousand euros. 

~

“You know, you’re lucky that you never have to do the lunch shift, I don’t know how ‘ya got that deal worked out.” Pepa shook her head and took a sip of her orange juice. 

“I’d rather do lunches than breakfasts, breakfast is shit. And I never get to eat dinner with you guys so really, shut the fuck up.” Toni jammed a bite of her fish into her mouth. Lunch staff had cooked it like shit. Lunch staff really needed someone better managing them. She’d go drag Jamie later, Jamie was on lunch staff. 

Pepa nodded, not bothered by Toni’s swearing at her. She swore a lot herself, so Toni figured it was pretty normal chat for them. 

“We should call Bale down to this end of the table one day,” Pepa said absently, still chewing. It was weak conversation, but what was there really ever to say?

“She wouldn’t say yes. She likes Rakitic and what’s-her-face, for some reason. And come on, Pep, we know Ronaldo is terrified of both of us so she stays right by Gwen. You want Ronaldo to mince over with her?”

Pepa nodded, now staying quiet and sipping more of her juice. Toni wished she could push the conversation on further, but it was a dull day. She was left to sit there, tapping her foot under the table until Pepa came up with something else boring.

“Hey, did you—“ Pepa was about to start a new sentence, to Toni’s relief, when she paused. The crackle of the intercom was coming on and everyone waited. Intercom messages were generally never a good sign. Someone had, inevitably, done something stupid, and everyone was going to get punished for it. Toni admitted, that from time to time, it had been something she’d done that had gotten some freedom stripped from everyone. Usually stupid little things though like extra scoops of rice at dinner. 

“Attention inmates.” Toni couldn’t gauge which male guard had been given the task of relaying the message. “Following the end of lunch, the following inmates have been selected for a random personal search. Gwyneth Bale, Pepa Ferreira, Josefina Fonte…”

Kroos couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The entire Eurotrash table was looking up and starting to get rustled. Every name so far had been someone sitting at their table. What the fuck was going on. More and more names were being listed rapidly.

The intercom was relentless, moving on from that series of names. “Toni Kroos, Luka Modric, Melek Ozil…”

“Are you kidding me?” Toni heard herself saying it out loud, louder than the rest of the protestations. This was un-fucking-believable. What had anyone at this table done? She’d not heard a fucking word of anything. The list was alphabetical, and she realized it was likely drawing to a close, as it finished up the entire table.

“…Ivana Rakitic, Cristiana Ronaldo, and Maria ter Stegen. Please report to the infirmary following the end of your meal.”

“What the fuck is going on!” Toni banged her hand on the table, shoving her plate away. Everyone was getting angrier and more amped up around her too, which was good. Always power in unity. The other tables were looking over at them shyly, trying not to make eye contact. For whatever reason, they had not been chosen for this, and they were all counting their blessings. At the other end of the table, where Bale and Ronaldo were, they seemed quieter, but no less stressed. Rakitic and what’s-her-face down at the very end looked completely dead silent, and sullen, no fighting from them, which was weird. Ronaldo was making a highly pained face, before getting up and chucking the rest of her food in the bin, and stomping off down the hall towards Zidane’s office. Of course she was, she was a baby and would try and get out of it by going right to Zidane. She was such a suck-up.

“Personal search, what the fuck does that even mean!” Pepa was yelling in Toni’s ear a bit. Toni was livid, practically shaking, but she was so intensely watching everyone else’s reaction that she hadn’t noticed how much rage was filling Pepa’s body. 

“Strip search, is what. It’s at the infirmary, so they might mean more.” Toni didn’t know what else to say about it, getting up and taking her own tray to slam the leftover shit fish into the garbage. 

“Hey! Kroos! Mind yourself!” It was Giroud, watching all the enraged women. Weirdly enough, he didn’t look happy either, and he was taking out his own personal temper tantrum, for whatever reason it might be about, on everyone. 

“You mind yourself, you frog!”

“You want to go spend some time by yourself?” Giroud was threatening time in solitary. Toni threw up her hands. 

“Go right ahead! Better than having a strip search and hands up my pussy!”

Pepa got up at that point and pulled Toni away from Giroud before she tried to throw her hands on him. Giroud looked completely ready to come over and cuff her, then stopped. 

“If that’s a better punishment to you, then I won’t. Get to the infirmary now, inmate. Now.”

Toni kicked a table leg as she passed by, which fucking hurt. It wasn’t fair, but nothing was ever fucking fair. Usually, she was able to get her just desserts on whoever wronged her in life. Prison was infuriating because she never could. Everyone held you back, even when someone really, really deserved something coming to them. 

Toni stomped to the little waiting room inside the infirmary, where Ronaldo was already waiting, looking miserable. Her little talk with Zidane had clearly gone badly. Who the fuck cared. The room was starting to fill up with other angry, buzzing women, and Bale looked ill because she knew she was going first. Rakitic was holding the arm of that wet mop ter Stegen when they finally came in, and ter Stegen barely looked like she was walking, her knees bending and crumpling with each step. Rakitic looked highly anxious, before finding one of the lone chairs and putting ter Stegen in it. It was a weird scene, but nobody seemed to notice amongst all the rage. 

Dr. Carrasco poked his head out of his office, and even he looked pretty strained. He was a lazy man who spent his days idling his time and handing out the morning and afternoon meds, and he probably didn’t want to be here for this many searches. It had to be cavity searches, they would have just had a guard do strip searches. 

“Bale?” He said weakly, and Bale turned and sighed at the rest of the crowd. 

“Treat me as your martyr,” she said, which was funny given the circumstances. Toni would have laughed if she still wasn’t so angry. It was very Bale, though, to just take her lot in life and plough ahead, with a little joke attached. Most of the girls here were not so forgiving. 

Rakitic was now crouching in front of ter Stegen’s chair, putting her hands on ter Stegen’s shoulders, and then her face. It was really fucking weird. Toni turned her attention back to the rest of the group. Pepa was next, and she was throwing a massive fit, fairly. The anticipation was high when Bale came back, zipping her hoodie back up. What had happened, the girls practically shouted in unison, what had Dr. Carrasco done?

“He’s trying to make it painless, but yeah, they’re doing cavity searches along with just a regular strip search where they don’t touch. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I don’t think he wants to be doing this anymore than we do, just treat it like a quick pap test.”

More voices being added to the mix, many still angry. Clearly someone had drugs on them, although Toni couldn’t guess who, and she guessed Enrique and Zidane had narrowed it down to someone who wasn’t a native Spanish speaker. Toni didn’t like being targeted for something she hadn’t done, and she didn’t like being corralled into a little room like cattle to suffer, but she guessed that’s why everyone was receiving this injustice. She realized, after Pepa came back, that nobody was being let back out afterwards. She guessed they were either keeping everyone for a lecture, or either that, they were afraid someone who go and incite a temper tantrum throughout the rest of the prison if they went rogue over this. There were guards on either side of each door in case someone tried to make a run for it, too. They really were taking this seriously. 

Her turn came honestly too soon, but Toni wasn’t about to stretch this out, like she knew some of the girls were trying to do with their tantrums. She was angry, hell yes, but what could she do? They wouldn’t put her in solitary, which sounded like a better place to be, so this was it. 

Dr. Carrasco looked tired. She imagined he was, although she didn’t have sympathy. It was his choice to do this job. There was a guard in there too, Sanchez, which she guessed would be doing most of the search.

“Could you strip down, please?” Sanchez sounded calm, and Toni chucked her clothes off. For the most part, it was something she’d already experienced when she’d first come to prison. Humiliating, certainly, but they weren’t allowed to touch. Toni showed Sanchez all her body parts and let him look into her mouth and ears, before she was told to hop onto the examination table for Dr. Carrasco. He did make it quick, thank god, while Sanchez shook out all her clothes that she’d left on the floor.

“Alright, we’re all done, Kroos, let’s get out of here, come on. Lots of names to go.”

Fine by her. Toni stuffed herself back in her clothes and stomped out of the room, feeling weak and humiliated, but at least everyone else was too. That Ozil girl was next, so off she went. Tony stared around the room at who was left. Ronaldo was throwing a personal mini-fit in the background, but everyone was starting to stare at what ter Stegen was doing. She was getting more and more agitated talking to Rakitic, louder and more high-pitched and stressed. She was only saying no, though, the word no over and over, until she broke and started shrilly speaking in German. Rakitic looked overwhelmed with all this, and was still trying to soothe her, stroking her hair, but it didn’t seem any use. She would tell ter Stegen it would be okay in Spanish, but it didn’t matter what she said. Ter Stegen was begging, mostly, asking in German for them to please not touch her. Toni became aware she was probably the only one in the room who knew what she was ranting about, and went over. 

“Hey, ter Stegen,” Toni made sure she was using German, “Cut this shit out, alright?”

“She’s panicking, she doesn’t know Spanish as well as some of us and she’s forgetting it.” Rakitic ran her hand through her hair. “Can you talk to her?”

“I am talking to her.” Toni moved back to German. “What’s your fucking damage?”

“Please, please, please, don’t let them touch me anymore, don’t let them touch me anymore, please.”

“What are you talking about?” Toni felt a knot form in the pit of her stomach. 

“Don’t let them touch me anymore.” Ter Stegen coughed out a bit of a sob. 

“Who’s touching you?” The wind really was out of Toni. She’d never liked ter Stegen and her mentality. She’d always thought her silence was indicative of her holier-than-thou attitude. Toni knew her case. Every German knew her case, and she knew the nation was pretty divided on it, especially on ter Stegen’s refusal to feel guilt for it. But maybe something else was going on. 

“Doesn’t matter, does it? Can’t do it, I can’t go in there.”

“Ter Stegen, you have to.” Toni’s voice didn’t have the edge it usually did. “They’ll think you have drugs. It’ll get done whether you want it to or not, forcefully or not.”

“PLEASE,” ter Stegen said again, in that screechy voice she’d never heard ter Stegen make ever, and Toni felt sick. Someone was abusing ter Stegen in here, and she didn’t know who it was, the doctor, a guard, someone. Her terror was genuine, she could tell. 

Toni turned to Rakitic. “She’s saying she’s been touched by someone in here. Do you know about this?”

Rakitic nodded. “She doesn’t think anyone will believe her.”

“Fuck.” Toni turned back to ter Stegen and tried again in German. “Was it a man?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay with women?”

“A little.”

Toni turned back to Rakitic. “Alright. Nobody caused a fuss, make sure nobody causes a fuss. EVERYONE!” Toni shouted to assure everyone’s attention was met. “Ter Stegen needs a female guard to perform her strip search! We need everyone to stand together when we ask for this!”

Ozil looked angry. “Why the fuck should she get special treatment! She’s probably just hiding something!”

“Weirdly enough, I don’t give a fuck about your opinion, Ozil, I’m not asking you that we’re all standing together on this, I’m telling you. We protect one another in here, no matter who they are.”

Ozil threw up her hands and walked away from Toni, which was fine by her. The other ladies were nodding without really questioning it, and Rakitic looked grateful. 

“Thank you.” 

“It’s almost your turn, Rakitic, We’ll stick around her until you’re back.” 

Rakitic left for her own, and Toni stood stiffly nearby ter Stegen. Everyone else seemed uncomfortable and wasn’t really going by either of them. It wasn’t ideal. She didn’t care for ter Stegen a bit, if she was honest. But you did the right fucking thing. 

Ronaldo minced off for hers after, still throwing her little crying fit, which was annoying. After she came back, Toni and Rakitic put themselves in front of ter Stegen. 

“We’ll be needing a female guard to perform ter Stegen’s exam.” Toni stood her ground.

“Come on, move out of the way, we’re almost done here, let’s just get this done.”

“NO. She has a right to a female guard!”

“Kroos!” Sanchez lunged a bit towards them, clearly angrier than she was even expecting at the request. Toni backed up and put her body over ter Stegen’s. 

“YOU DO NOT TOUCH HER.”

“Hey, you, come on! We’re going down to solitary right now, come on!”

“I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL YOU BRING IN A FEMALE GUARD.”

Toni felt relief when the other girls started to come over, bunching around ter Stegen, making a bubble around her. Bale was one of the first over beside Rakitic, Modric following. They were doing as promised. Good girls, good girls, Toni thought. It was going to work. There was enough of them that they would protect her. They didn’t know why they were all doing this, but they were doing it for her. Toni realized they would do it for anyone, even if they hated them.

“I’ll bring someone in.” Sanchez left to get someone, returning with Roccuzzo. “Good enough for her highness?”

“Yes, thank you.” 

Rakitic helped ter Stegen up and sent her through the door with Roccuzzo. Sanchez came over with handcuffs for Toni, which she put her wrists out for. 

“You need some time by yourself.”

“Great.” 

~

“Cristiana!”

Cristiana didn’t want to turn around. She’d been hiding all the rest of the day after that afternoon’s humiliation. She couldn’t bear to face anyone, because she knew it was her that’d done this to everyone. Cristiana had tried to count, and realized she’d sent nearly all of her friend group to this hell, except Ramos, Jamie, and Carvajal. Ramos didn’t know what she’d done, thank god, but Jamie did. It was Jamie’s voice now that Cristiana was trying not to pay attention to. 

“Cristiana!” Jamie repeated. Cristiana had chosen the hiding place of choice, the laundry room, although it would only be so long until she knew she’d be found. There were other women milling about, trying to do their job, looking up with acute interest at the scene unfolding. Cristiana jumped off the counter and approached Jamie. They’d leave to have this conversation.

“Yes?”

Jamie took her by the arm and pulled her roughly out of the room. Cristiana knew Jamie would be angry, but she wasn’t expecting this. It hadn’t happened to Jamie. Cristiana hadn’t doomed her. Jamie seemed pretty self-serving in a lot of ways, although that wasn’t a point against her. Lots of women were, in here, and it was their right.

“What the fuck, Cristiana.”

“I didn’t know he was going to do that. I didn’t know they were going to pull up a whole table.”

“So you did tell. You told Zidane that you found that box.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t, Cristiana. It wasn’t your problem to get into.”

“But…someone is spreading drugs around. People could get hurt.”

“What did you tell Zidane? Did you tell him who you thought it was?”

“No, no I didn’t.” Cristiana felt like crying. Jamie was being so harsh and short and sharp with her sentences. She’d only heard that anger once, when Cristiana had been racist without thinking. 

“What did you tell him?”

“I gave him the German note, but I said probably lots of people knew a little German. I didn’t say who I thought it was, I didn’t.”

“So that’s how you doomed the whole table. Cris, how could you be so stupid? Those are our friends!”

“I had to go through it too! They didn’t let me off the hook!”

“And thank God they didn’t, because then everyone would know what you did. Cristiana, you put Toni at major risk. She is one of three major suspects now. She’s sitting in solitary right now while they probably sniff through all her shit in her room. How could you do that to her? But really, how could you do that to Gwen? She loves you. How could you do that to everyone?”

Cristiana already knew. She already felt so fucking guilty over this. It was so hard to know what the right thing to do was. She’d be guilty leaving the box there, but this was just as bad, maybe worse. 

“Look, I know. I’m sorry.”

Jamie ignored the apology. “You’re lucky Ramos doesn’t know, Cristiana.”

“You won’t tell her, would you?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to someone I cared about.”

That hurt the most. Cristiana looked down at her feet. Jamie stood their silently, also looking down, before turning on her heel and walking away.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blackout occurs at the prison, and Maria confronts Ozil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! This is a chapter I'm really excited about! For one, I reveal the crime of one of the inmates, and two, I feel it's an exciting chapter, so I hope you like it.

~University of Barcelona, two and a half years earlier~

Sabi stared numbly at her computer. She should really be packing to go home for winter holiday, but it seemed very fruitless now. Very fruitless indeed. If her mother found out about her grades, she would simply kill her. 

Sabi couldn’t exactly locate what went wrong that was the turning point, but it was probably a mixture of things. She wished she could just write it all off as her anxiety. That seemed easy. But it wasn’t and she knew it. It was a big part of it, but it wasn’t all of it. The anxiety had made her fear class, then skipping class made her fear attending the next lecture, but then she felt guilty and anxious for being behind. The homework never got turned in most of the time though, and that was her problem. She’d gone out with friends too much, friends who she made unaware that she felt like shit. That was her problem. It had been so much easier all semester to just avoid everything and go places with them, even if they made her anxious too sometimes. It had made her fail almost everything, and now, Sabi couldn’t really tell herself that everyone had a wild first semester and were like this. People still passed their classes even if they were being wild. 

There was, of course, the very dirty, awful secret Sabi knew was making everything worse, but she couldn’t stop. It infuriated her to know that she couldn’t fucking stop. Or maybe she could have, but secretly didn’t want to, she didn’t know. Heroine felt fucking amazing while you were on it, and nobody could tell her otherwise. She wasn’t stupid. It was bad, complete shit for her, but you felt so fucking good on it. Nothing else made her feel good, nothing. Not things that even once did in high school. Those same things that she used to like regained some glimmer of pleasantness when she’d had a nice shot, but once it faded, everything was rubbish again. It hurt to feel that way. Sabi remembered she used to really enjoy smiling and being happy. She was happy all the time, once.

The school had sent her a warning email telling her that she was on academic probation, but Sabi still didn’t care. The next semester would be like this too, Sabi wagered. Who cared? She’d lie to her mother and say all her grades were great. 

~  
“Ozil, Ozil, there you are, Jesus, fuck, I need to talk to you, can we talk, please? Please?” Sabi ran up to Ozil, feeling relief. There she finally was. Ozil had purposely been avoiding her for a couple days now for some unknown reason, and Sabi was desperate. Completely and utterly desperate. She’d been without for two days now, and she was feeling it hard.

“Hey, not right now, Roberto, alright! I’m busy!”

Ozil had never spoken to Sabi like that, not ever. Sabi took a step back, blinking a bit. 

“Hey, sorry. I just…” Sabi lowered her voice. “I need like a bit. Just a bit.”

“Not. Right. Now. Roberto. I’m not in the mood to deal with all this shit, and honestly, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this. I really feel that I’m giving you a bargain more than I really ought to be. Maybe we’ll have to cut it off anyway until you can give me a better deal.”

Sabi felt startled. Ozil had asked for more awhile back, so Sabi gave up most of her commissary money whenever she could. She only left a little for things like pads. She didn’t have anything else to give. 

“I’m…I’m sorry, Ozil. I’ll do better, I’ll make more money, please.”

Ozil didn’t move. 

“Are you sure, Ozil? You won’t help me right now?”

“Get out, Roberto!”

Sabi hurried out of the recreation room, feeling overly hurt. More than that, really. It was one thing if Ozil was mad at her, although she didn’t know why. It was more that her body really felt like it was going to turn in on her, make her collapse into nothing. She’d been there before, with Marta picking up all her broken pieces and putting her back together again, without even knowing her. It would destroy Marta to know she’d done it again, fucked everything up again. 

Sabi wondered if there was any left in any of the hidey-holes that Ozil had shared with her before. Likely not. Ozil moved it all the fucking time so nobody could ever find it. It was worth a shot to try the bathroom hole, her most common one. Sabi had only once dared to try and look there without Ozil’s permission, and it hadn’t been there, but it had shown up several other times after when Ozil doled her out. Sabi rushed to the bathroom, the feeling of guilt quickly being replaced by that horrible panic that had been consuming Sabi. She just needed a fucking little, just a little. Just a little would get her through until she could figure out how to get more. Look for other inmates who might have some from Ozil. 

Sabi flung into the bathroom stall and pried the tile out from the wall. Fuck, nothing. Of course there was nothing. Sabi fell to the floor, feeling exhausted just from running to the bathroom. Sobs were starting to bubble out of her, great heaving sobs that racked through her whole body. The floor was spinning a bit and Sabi grabbed onto the edge of the toilet seat to stabilize herself. 

Then everything went dark. Sabi wondered for a moment if she had blacked out. She’d done it before, it was possible. But no. She was still holding onto the plastic toilet seat, her body resting against the cool ceramic of the rest of the toilet. Her breath was shaky, but she was breathing. The room was just pitch black. Now she could hear voices, loud voices from a lot of ladies, and Sabi realized everywhere must be dark. A blackout. Generally, places like this had a lot of backup generators that kicked in emergency lights, but there was nothing. It must be quite a blackout throughout the rest of the city, Sabi decided. 

They were likely going to do roll call and get everyone in the same room so nobody could be doing nasty things in the dark, but Sabi couldn’t be bothered right now. They could find her if they wanted, but it was too hard to get off the ground right now. 

~

“Inmates, we have gotten word that the power likely will be poor for at least twenty-four hours, if not several days!” Enrique was actually out of his office for this message. Truly amazing. Everyone had been rammed in the recreation room, the only room that had been filled with a bunch of camp lights. Apparently, the storm ripping through the city was highly uncommon and was knocking down electricity poles rapidly, which had been what happened to the prison. All the backup generators were being used to keep some lights on in the maximum security prison to keep those prisoners maximumly secured, and in the meantime, the prison was far away enough that the city wouldn’t be reaching their electricity poles yet to repair them. Most of the tables and chairs had been pushed to the perimeters of the room and stacked, leaving room for everyone to mill around helplessly, unsure of what to do next. They’d been told to bring their pillow and blankets over as they’d probably have to spend the night in here, which had caused more of a commotion as everyone had started arguing that they didn’t want to sleep on the hard ground, but Maria hadn’t minded too much. She got to sleep next to Ivana for the night, which was a first. Secretly, she was a little pleased to be nearby her for a whole night, feel her warmth while she slept. 

“Has anyone fucking found Sabi yet?” Marta was collected with their group, anxiously tapping her foot. Sabi hadn’t been found at all yet, which was weird, and time was rapidly running out before they performed roll call. 

“I have to go to the bathroom just a little bit, I’ll go take one look there, okay?” Maria felt she was being generous with her offer, although it was self-serving. Once roll call had been done they’d likely need escorts to go to the bathroom, and Maria shuddered at the thought. She couldn’t take any more of the guards and their prying eyes. 

“Could you? Thank you, Maria, don’t be long, though, I don’t want you to get in trouble either.”

Maria nodded silently and slipped off down the dark hall, glad she had the place mostly memorized without hardly ever looking up from her feet after four years. The bathroom was six doors down the left, inching closer to the bedrooms but still far enough away that it was a pain rushing between the two in the mornings. 

“Roberto?” Maria called out, probably too quietly, into the bathroom. She sounded hollow and tinny, but there was a sound in response, so Maria stepped further inside. “Roberto?”

“Ter Stegen.” Out stepped Ozil instead, Maria could see, even in the dark. She stepped out of a stall, but there was another noise, a weaker one. Someone else was in that stall.

“Oh, don’t mind me.” Maria switched to German. “I was just looking for Roberto, have you seen her?”

“I haven’t. You shouldn’t worry about her anyway, ter Stegen. I would worry about yourself, you’re going to need to.”

“You should get back to the recreation room, they’re going to take roll call.” Maria proceeded cautiously. She didn’t want to be left in a room with Ozil at all, especially a dark, silent, empty one. Ozil’s face was scaring her right now, a dark and angry face she wasn’t expecting.

A small voice came from inside the stall. “Maria.”

“Roberto?” Maria turned to Ozil. She had just lied to her face. “Is that Roberto?”

Ozil went to step in front of the stall, but Maria pushed past her. Sabi was on the ground, looking pitiful and unmoving.

“Roberto, let’s go.” Maria offered her hand. Sabi mumbled something about Marta, but it didn’t make sense. Sabi was either high as a kite or crashing down off a high, she saw now. Fucking Christ. Ozil had caused them all to get those horrible strip searches and Maria knew completely now. She’d guessed it before, but now she knew. 

“Go with your gallant white knight, Roberto, your righteous saviour.” Ozil kept speaking strangely, but Maria pulled Sabi up anyway and rushed her out of the bathroom. She wished deeply that Sabi would move faster, and Maria felt like she was pushing her along more forcefully than she would ever like to handle someone, but Sabi had to be removed from whatever that situation was immediately.

Marta leapt up from her makeshift sleeping bag on the floor when Maria came back in, looking relieved. 

“Shit, there you are, Sab. Thanks, Maria, thank you.”

“Melek Ozil has been feeding her drugs. She was in the bathroom with her. Now you know.” Maria turned back around and headed back towards the bathroom before anyone could stop her. A voice told her to come back, a friend of hers, but Maria had no idea who it was. Ozil likely was still in the bathroom, she didn’t have anywhere else to go down the hall. Maria took a deep breath, then pushed the door open. 

“You really did do everything here, didn’t you?” Maria didn’t know where this voice was coming from. Her voice was calm, collected, but hard as ice. This was a different angry, Maria knew it. She knew deep, deep anger that collected in her very core, but it would come out explosively when she least expected it. Instead, this anger had reason, a main purpose. Ozil had to be punished.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ozil was staring straight ahead into the bathroom mirror, even though it was near black in the bathroom. It painted an oddly cold image, like a scene in a horror movie. 

“You brought that shit in. And you were going to blame me. You wanted to learn more about me all this time to find ways to peg me to it. Why?”

“Ter Stegen. Just leave it.”

Maria raised her voice a little. “Roberto is losing her mind. What have you done to her? What have you done to others?”

“Look, you little piece of righteous shit,” Ozil stepped away from the mirror over to Maria, getting up close and nearly poking Maria’s chest with her jabbing finger while she talked. “You knew all this was going on and you didn’t even say anything to her fucking handler Bartra. And you would never, because you’re spineless. You’ve always been spineless. Don’t think the whole of Germany’s forgotten about you because they haven’t. And don’t even think about touching me, because you lift one finger to me, you’ll go to max.”

“Because you’re so qualified to say why I did something, Ozil. I was happy never making waves in here. I wanted to never be thought of again, and yet you let myself, you even let Kroos cushion your fall in here, but you especially wanted me to take it. Because you realized that if you got caught, you could blame it on me, the filthy murderer. Is that it? Never mind, don’t answer. We know that’s it.”

“You haven’t any proof I was. You’ll never have proof. Don’t think I didn’t hear that shit you were saying to Kroos. You’re weak, and unliked, and no wonder someone in here decided to give you what you deserve.”

Maria stepped back like she had been shoved very hard. She tried to speak, Maria truly did, but nothing came out. All the words that had been coming out so forcefully had dried up, just like that. 

Ozil kept going relentlessly. “And it will keep happening, over and over, ter Stegen, you will never be free of it because you don’t deserve it, and…”

Maria took hold of Ozil’s collar before hitting her hard in the face with her fist. Ozil staggered backwards, looking up with impish, infuriating delight, so Maria took hold of her again and pushed her against the sink counter, before taking her by that scrappy ponytail of hers and trying to slam her head into it. Ozil seemed suddenly alarmed and struggled away from this, but Maria didn’t care. She had the upper hand. She worked out more than people knew, or cared to know about her. Up against the wall next, where Maria hit her again, kneeing her anywhere she could. Ozil started to scream a little, panicking, so Maria put her on the ground and hit her, over and over until she couldn’t make any noises. Blood was spattering on her, and Ozil was rapidly losing consciousness, but now Maria couldn’t stop. Hitting her over and over was the only relief she could get from all of this, even though her hand was aching and throbbing. 

Maria just barely heard a voice in the background call her name, before she felt big hands grab her, haul her upright, then smash her hard in her own face. Once, twice, a third, then Maria stopped remembering anything.

~

~Some twenty minutes earlier~

“Just fucking breathe, Kun, it’s just the dark, it’s just the dark.” Geri was sick of this rubbish hole. Nothing ever worked and nobody took care of anything. The place was falling apart, and this was just one fucking example. The only backup they had was to cram all the fucking inmates into one claustrophobic room, which was a terrible idea. Of course Kun had been the first one to break in their little group, and Geri would rather she didn’t over-exert herself with the baby and all. 

“It’s too much, too much, Geri!” Tears were streaming down Kun’s face. 

“Leo’s right here, you have to breathe, okay? You’ve got to calm down.”

Leo wasn’t being much of a particular help, actually, offhandedly rubbing Kun’s shoulder a little. Leo wasn’t the best for empathy and was probably just stewing in her own grumpiness over the situation. 

“What’s going on over here, inmates?” 

Geri looked up. It was Maradona. She knew that Kun and Maradona hadn’t spoken in ages. She’d slipped him the photo of the baby, but that had been about it. Kun had shrugged it off, because she knew she’d hurt him first, but it did bother her. 

“Nothing, she’s just feeling a little claustrophobic right now.” Geri stood up in front of Kun a little, feeling protective. Maradona had done nothing to step up about this child, nothing at all. 

“Inmate, stand up.” Maradona’s voice was harsh, and Kun got up, even though she was still crying. 

“You’re going to discipline her, really?” Geri snapped. There wasn’t much he could really do to her, in the giant room with nowhere to go. Maradona deserved to be snapped at anyway, the piece of trash.

“Twenty jumping jacks, inmates, now!”

“Are you serious, Maradona!” Leo also stood up, looking defiant. Leo rarely barked at the guards, unless it was Roccuzzo. 

“I said now!” 

Kun started the jumping jacks, still sobbing and struggling to breathe, but after the sixth or seventh one, her breathing started to regulate better. She was, amazingly, calming down. Geri raised her eyebrows, surprised, and turned to Maradona. He shrugged a bit at Geri and Leo. 

“You learn a thing or two.” Maradona turned back around to go back to supervising everyone else without another word. Geri didn’t feel that was good enough, honestly, after abandoning her and taking no responsibility, and she was ready to say so, when instead, there was a bit of a commotion. Maria had stomped into the recreation room from the hall, dragging Sabi along in tow, bringing her over to Marta, who was close to them, standing with Rakitic, Neymar, and Rafa. 

“Melek Ozil has been feeding her drugs. She was in the bathroom with her. Now you know.” 

Maria turned on her heel and flung herself back down the hall, which was incredibly stupid, giving the circumstances. Geri felt shocked. She had never seen Maria act this way. In fact, she’d hardly seen Maria do anything. She was a silent non-contributor to the group, only there because Leo let her sit with them because she liked Ivana. 

“Hey, Maria! Come back!” Geri tried not to say it too loudly. That would only draw more attention to what was going on. The guards hadn’t noticed, and hadn’t cared. Thank god, honestly. Geri turned to Marta, who looked shocked. Sabi didn’t seem to be resisting or arguing over what had just been said, and slumped over onto the floor instead. 

“You know about this?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, no.” Marta kneeled down on the ground, putting the back of her hand on Sabi’s forehead to feel it. 

“And you, Ivana?”

Ivana was standing stalk-still, like she was completely numb. “She’s hated Ozil. I had, I didn’t know why…”

“She’s gone in there to beat her ass.”

“No, no, I don’t think Maria would, I don’t think, I don’t…”

Geri turned and rushed towards the hall, feeling deep internal panic. That was a comrade, one she didn’t know very well, but a comrade nonetheless. Maria was being incredibly stupid, and lord, Geri knew that feeling. Geri knew, more than anyone, what it felt like to be so angry that you had to lash out, to smash the utter shit out of anything that dared cross you. Geri, however, knew she could throw hands at Ramos whenever she wanted, and she’d get out. She’d never be locked away to max, because as soon as she’d been handed her sentence, her mother had become a major beneficiary of the prison. The place was shit enough, they’d be dead in the water without her mother’s money. Nobody could truly touch her, because she knew she was safe. Criminals serving violent crimes who got to go to minimum sat on a precipice, one that Geri had managed to avoid through this alone. Maria sat on a particularly thin precipice. She was done for if she laid a hand on someone. 

Geri burst into the bathroom, but it was too late. Ozil was on the floor, Maria leaning on her chest and beating the shit out of her still. Ozil was already knocked out, Geri could see, but Maria wasn’t stopping. Geri shouted her name, but she didn’t stop. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was one last chance Maria had not to go to max, and Geri knew she had to do it. Make the fight look even. Make it look like Ozil had a fucking shot in this mess. Geri ran over and dragged Maria up by the back of her collar, hitting her over and over. Maria’s face looked startled, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Geri kept hitting, praying to God this was enough, before carefully putting her down on the ground with Ozil and crying out for someone to get in here. Some guards must have finally caught wind of the commotion, some running in and pulling their bloodied bodies apart and carrying them out of the bathroom. Geri slipped her own hands, knuckles cracked and bleeding from hitting Maria, back into her pockets and slipped back out of the bathroom, over to the throngs of women now trying to see into the dark hall while Ozil and Maria were both dragged away. 

~

~ISSF European Shooting Championship, Barcelona, Spain, four years earlier~

Maria felt a little impatient. The lineup for this stupid chorizo was taking forever. She knew she could have gotten one of the people her coach had helping and micromanaging everything to get her a snack but it didn’t seem right, so she’d gone by herself. She figured she’d still make it back comfortably to eat and then rest. There was still an hour to go until the competition and it wasn’t like there was anything she could really do to practice more. She’d slipped out before Coach could stop her, because she’d probably say no, but Maria wanted the snack more than anything else. The snack would help her focus. 

She’d not actually had chorizo before, actually. She knew it was sausage, so she’d probably like it, although she wasn’t completely sure. Spanish food was not really her favourite. That was probably her fault. She knew they used a lot of spices and fresh vegetables and seafood, but she supposed she was better suited to denser German food. 

There was a lot of noise and people moving around her, some stopping and saying things to her, likely praise, although it was mostly in Spanish, which Maria didn’t know. She did glow a little bit when she heard it. She knew she was the frontrunner to win, and the attention, this right kind of attention, felt good. She supposed it was easy for her to stand out as someone competing, she had her full German national outfit on, with her gun behind her back. Normally, this amount of noise and people would be a bit much, but it was okay. Not to say that Maria didn’t have her faculties still running at one hundred percent, all her senses still highly aware, but people seemed friendly.

Although she did hear something that nobody else seemed to be noticing. A squeaking, or something. Maria was pretty close to the front of the chorizo line now, but she stepped out of it, almost against her stomach’s wishes. She supposed she felt a little compelled to. The noise seemed to be coming from behind the back of the food truck selling the sausage, before completing stopping. Maybe it was their machinery or something, Maria didn’t know. She’d lost her place in the lineup so she might as well investigate. 

It was a young man and woman, both turned away from her, who seemed to be in some sort of lover’s embrace. At least, Maria thought it was that for a split second, before she realized the horrifying truth. The girl was struggling hard against the boy’s grasp, and her mouth had been covered completely by the boy’s hand while he was…

Maria backed up. No. No, no, he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this to her. He couldn’t ruin this girl’s life. Maria felt herself start to shake, her eyes going blurry. Red, even. Was seeing red a real thing, then? A fog of red, definitely settling over her eyes. Evil. This boy was evil, evil, evil. Like all of them were. He deserved nothing in life. Maria felt hands all over herself, suddenly, hands that weren’t there, ghost hands, but the memories were all too fucking real. 

He still didn’t seem to hear that Maria had approached them, but it didn’t matter. He would in a moment. Maria pulled out her rifle and cocked it, crying out like she was calling for her clay pigeon to be thrown. The boy turned his head, and Maria shot. Bang. Right in the middle of his forehead. He started to fall backwards, and Maria adjusted her rifle downwards. Bang. Right in the heart. There were splatters of blood everywhere, screaming from the now freed girl. More screams as people began to flock from the scene, people beginning to tear around her in a frenzy, reach for the girl, reach for the sick fucking lump on the ground that was the boy. Maria felt dizzy, dropping her rifle onto the grass, the scene starting to spin around her. She felt someone push her to the ground and hold her there, reach for arms to pin her still. Maria didn’t resist. Maria laid her head on the ground and waited, deciding it really was better to just play dead for now, let people do what they wanted. It was easier that way.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sabi is left in withdrawal while Ramos gets an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of suicide occur in this chapter as well as several mentions of vomiting.
> 
> Past that,
> 
> A second backstory has been finished!
> 
> I know I've taken a long time to write this chapter and I'm really sorry! I wrote that one-shot and then I had a lot of homework and got distracted. Hope that next time won't be so slow. Let me know how you're liking it still! :)

~Superior Court of Civil and Criminal Justice, Barcelona, four years earlier~

“Repeat back what you’re going to tell the jury.”

Maria stared numbly at her lawyer. Of course she knew what she was meant to say. She would take the stand, to make an emotional appeal for her freedom. She would say she was sorry, she was out of her mind, she shouldn’t have made that choice, even if it was in the defense of another. They’d gone over it again and again. The prosecutors would ask her if she was remorseful, she would say she was very remorseful. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn’t. She knew her lawyer meant well. He really believed in her, and the case. He truly wanted her free.

But then, a lot of people did. Maria, from her little cell deep in the recesses of the court, cuffed and sitting across from her lawyer, knew there were hundreds of people outside the court, many protesting with signs for her freedom. She didn’t get to see the TV from her current home inside a maximum security prison, but her lawyer said she was all over European news, and had even become a bit of a spectacle in America. Everyone wanted to know the story of the 3-time gold medal Olympian who had gunned down a person in broad daylight in front of crowds of people. Apparently, many feminists, Maria was told, had picked up on the issue, and they were the main protesters, demanding justice to a woman who had finally stood up to her oppressor in such a bold way, or something to that effect. 

Maria found the whole thing obnoxious, if she was very honest. Maria had already given her testimony in court of what had happened days earlier. She’d chosen English, easier for people to understand than German, which she could have done if she was choosing to be difficult, but she wasn’t trying to be. She’d been quiet and stumbling, but then, everything she ever said was. One of the prosecutors had tried to trap her, target that the act was pre-meditated because any person in their right mind wouldn’t be able to shoot so perfectly, directly into the forehead and heart. Maria didn’t have much to say to them. She’d told them she never missed, and moved on. After that, she knew shirts were being printed that said “I never miss,” and that they were quite popular. Maria was aware her words had become twisted yet again, a symbol of some sort of strength inside her, or something. A strength that didn’t exist. Stupid and obnoxious, Maria had decided, stupid and obnoxious. She felt a certain softness for those that did feel she was innocent, an appreciation, but things like the t-shirts were very stupid.

“Are you ready to go out there?”

Maria nodded, looking downward at her lap. The worst part about this whole trial had been the eyes on her. She’d been used to it before, but this was such a different performance. Sitting in a room surrounded by people who thought she was a villain was terrifying, and there was a new fear she’d developed for the press. Whenever she was walked into the court room, there was so much shouting and cameras in her face. Maria always tried to just look down, just pretend they weren’t there, always touching and grabbing at her arms. Maria never covered her face with her hands or arms like she knew a lot of those on high-profile trials did, there was no point, but she never dared look up. 

Maria nodded and got up with her lawyer, the guard watching them opening the locked cell door. This was the final day of proceedings before things were handed over to the jury. It hadn’t been a long trial, a blessing. The longest part was always the walk to the courtroom, which she knew would be humming with gentle, tense conversation until she walked in. It had occurred again, and Maria knew journalists were poised. What was her composure? Was she shifty? Would the impervious wall of Maria-Andrea ter Stegen show emotion today?

Maria thought a lot about the girl behind the chorizo stand, especially now, as the judge started his boring proceedings in Spanish, a tongue she could not wrap her mind around. The girl had testified on Maria’s behalf, an act so strong that it had made her break down in tears after she was back at the jail for the night. The act Maria had never had the strength to do herself, yet this girl had put her terror and pain out there for everyone to see. Maria didn’t know that bravery. 

“Maria? You’ve been zoned out all day. They want you to go to the stand.” Maria’s lawyer was whispering in her ear, nudging her a bit with his shoulder. She supposed she was zoned out. But now, she had to give her speech. Maria reckoned she wouldn’t likely be able to muster many emotions, but she would have to try. Squeeze one out, any out. Anything that showed she had feeling. She did have feeling, she did, she really did. She was described as cold and calculating, a silent loner, mysterious. Like any common killer. She always wanted to scream that she wasn’t, that she felt heartache, and joy, and every other emotion like everyone else. But no one ever saw that side. Maria stepped up with assistance from the guard to the stand, begging herself to produce some sort of physical remorse. 

“Miss ter Stegen,” the prosecutor knew English, which made Maria’s life easier. “If you want to tell the jury about any regrets you have about your actions, now would be the time.”

It certainly would. Maria went to start her spiel, her own defense looking on earnestly, but her throat caught, and Maria sat back deeper into her chair. Was she sorry? No. Would she ever be sorry? Also no. Maria thought a lot about her father. Did she often fantasize that she’d popped a round into him and that he deserved it, even if she’d never had the guts to do it as a kid?

And then there was the question of her life if freed from prison. She’d have to never be seen again, hide away in some private corner of Germany, alone forever. A terrible, terrible pariah, doomed to grow old in some tiny house as a spinster until children were afraid of the strange lonely granny down the street. Prison would allow her to hide in peace. She’d never have to worry.

“Miss ter Stegen? Did you hear me? Are you sorry for your actions?”

Maria leaned back into the microphone. “No.”

~

“How did I not know a huge-ass drug scheme was being fucking instigated in here, you know, Gwen, babe? I’m still racking my brain. It’s blowing my mind.” Sabina passed a hand weight to Gwen, still searching for the right weight for herself. They didn’t usually weightlift during exercise, but it wasn’t a terrible idea to do it occasionally. It was good tension relief too, if Pique wasn’t hanging around pumping as much iron as possible to look dominant. 

“Weirdly, I don’t think anybody did. I wouldn’t worry about it.” 

“Yeah, but I should have, Gwen. I, of all people should have. Why the fuck didn’t Jamie tell us that she knew something was up, even if she didn’t know what exactly it is that was up? What, she only tells Ronaldo things now? Fuck her.”

“Now maybe you’re getting upset for no reason. You don’t mean that. Look, Messi’s group is in absolute shambles right now, she didn’t know either.”

Gwen had a point. Sabina settled down a bit and returned to lifting her weights. 

“Do you think there’s any left out here in the building somewhere? That’d be fucked up, eh?”

“Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do, Sabina, I mean it.”

“Terrible advice, babe.” Sabina stood up. “I’m going to go talk to Messi, I think. See what she thinks about all this shit.”

“Won’t she just bite your head off?”

“No.” Sabina put her weights back on the shelf and headed outdoors. Messi would inevitably be outside playing with her ball. She was fucking weird that way, actually. Sabina struggled to figure out, sometimes, how Messi managed to wield so much power in this prison. But she did and all her cronies were so in love with her. 

She was playing with the ball, shockingly not alone, but with one of her girlfriends. The non-pregnant one. Sabina had heard that a football game was meant to be in the works, and she decided Messi was likely generously allowing her to practice. 

“Hey, come here, will you?” Sabina marched over and kicked the ball out from under Neymar’s feet across the grass, forcing her to scowl angrily and run after it. 

“What do you want? Are you here about something serious or are you just being a bitch?” Messi didn’t follow Neymar, approaching Sabina instead, looking up defiantly. It made Sabina smile, despite her best efforts, to know she was a good ten inches taller than Messi, and that Messi had to look up at her like a petulant child. 

“We’re going to go walk and talk around the track, alright?”

Messi shrugged and followed Sabina, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she shuffled along, waiting for Sabina to make her point. Sabina gave Messi a lot of credit, actually. She didn’t like her at all, she was a bitch, but she almost never flew off the handle in an explosive way. She’d hear you out. 

“So, about Ozil.”

Messi made a long, drawn-out, deep sighing noise as a response, before Sabina had a chance to say more. 

“Do you have something you’d like to add?”

“No,” Messi kicked a rock in front of her, skittering it too far out of control. “Go on.”

“You got any intentions of dealing with her? This is affecting your girls more than mine. I just want to know what your game plan is. If you want to lay siege, I won’t get in the way.” Sabina felt she was being generous with this offer. She could scavenge the aftermath later. 

Messi stopped and rubbed her temple instead. “I haven’t thought about it, Ramos. We’re in shambles right now, ter Stegen’s gone and fucked herself, Rakitic is in histrionics over it, Bartra is taking care of the incapacitated baby that is Roberto right now, and lord knows my girlfriend’s pregnancy moodswings are just the icing on the cake! My girlfriend’s pregnancy moodswings! In an all-women’s prison! Can you imagine I’m saying that sentence!”

Messi was now flailing both of her hands around in the air. Sabina couldn’t help but laugh, even if it was a cruel laugh. First, it was funny seeing the tiny Leona Messi act so dramatically, and second, it did give her satisfaction whenever that group was suffering. “So you’re not going to deal with it? Send in your muscle.”

“Geri told me she isn’t cutting it any closer than she did the night of the attack. If Suarez wants to make a mess, she can go ahead if she wants, but not my problem.” 

Surprising. Messi delegated, while Sabina preferred to take fights on herself. She really must be tired, if she didn’t even want to delegate the task of taking down Ozil to someone else. 

“You’re saying that you’re not going to do anything, period?”

“I’m really not, Ramos.” Messi shrugged again. Sabina appreciated, in a funny way, that they could both talk like adults to one another, even if they both had such distaste for one another. 

“Then I could?”

“You won’t see any interference from me. Oh, yes, Ramos, here’s your official invite from Neymar to participate in her football game she’s throwing. She wants a fun match. Pick eleven people, and for the love of God, put Ronaldo as your starting striker, if you want the match to be even remotely equal at all.”

~

~Madrid, Spain, twelve years earlier~

“Look, little one, we haven’t got time for any person who marches in with some blood wish just because they got wronged. Honestly, I don’t even know how you found out how to get in contact with us.”

Sabina shrugged, looking down at her lap. Her hands lay loose, the bandages across her knuckles probably in need of a change. Sabina was tempted to pick at the bandage, see how the tattoos were doing, but she should wait until she got home. It’d hurt like hell to get the tattoos, one on each knuckle, except her thumbs, but it had felt right. The tattoos spelt out “FERNANDO,” but it didn’t feel dramatic. It felt like the right thing to do, to honour him. He didn’t fucking deserve what had happened, he didn’t. 

“I searched hard.” She had. It’d taken a lot of work to reach out to a rival group, to find one that specifically had beef with the group, a gang now dubbed the Red Snakes, and gather up the courage to approach them. Most of the work had involved trailing a lot of gangs, and she was at the point that she could comfortably say where a few Red Snakes were at most times. 

“And you want them dead? How can we take out a whole gang, little one? You’re way too fucking naïve, my god.”

“Don’t call me little one.” Sabina bristled. “It’s fucking rude. Anyway, I just meant the ones involved in my boyfriend’s murder. Just a couple.”

The guy, who’d only given himself the title of Sauli, stared at Sabina. She didn’t care if she was rude. She could literally give less of a fuck. 

“Are you going to talk to me that way?”

“Yes. You’re being patronizing and I know I’m young, but I’m not a fucking idiot. Look, I just don’t have the right ins to connect with someone at the moment to really get a proper hit out on them, so I turned to you, with more details of their wretchedness. I really need this done.”

“To avenge your little boyfriend.” He was using a fucking awful babyish voice now, to mock her. Sabina smacked her hand on the table.

“Fuck you, bud! Look, I’m willing to pay you lot.” Sabina had some money tucked away, half from her own adventures and half stolen from her folks, but she’d also gone to town on whatever money of Nando’s had been left. He’d had more than she thought he would. She figured he wouldn’t mind if his estate, if that’s what it could be called, went to murdering his murderers. 

Sauli raised his eyebrows and leaned back in his chair. “You’re a firecracker, aren’t you? Okay, okay, you’re serious. Look, sweetheart, abruptly slaughtering rivals is going to just cause a war.”

Sabina sighed. He was right. Fuck.

“But if you want, I can pass you on to some independent hit guys we work with, okay? They’ll be happy to get the job done, that’s what they do. And look…honey…”

“I’m being serious, I have a name, just call me Ramos if you can’t figure out what shitty nickname to call me out of your rolodex of misogyny.”

“That’s exactly what I mean. Your spitfire is truly, wow. You ever want to stop back in here, if you’re being serious.”

“I came for a favour. I’ll take the numbers from you for your guy. That’s the favour.”

“I’m just saying hon—Ramos. I like you. You ever feel like coming back, mention my name. We’ll let you right in.”

~

~University of Barcelona residence, Spain, two years earlier~

Sabi paced round and round her bedroom. She was fucked. Absolutely fucked. She had, what, a week and a half before she had to move back home for the year, and what? What was she even going back for? She’d failed, she was done. The only way she could get back in now is if she took a year of special back-on-track programs, closely monitored, and already, Sabi could see it wasn’t going to happen. She couldn’t, she just couldn’t. It was hard enough going to a big lecture, but going to sit with some remedial professor breathing down her neck seemed like much, much more work, even though the classes were so much smaller.

Her mother had already fucking deposited next year’s money in her account. It was sitting there, taunting her. Fourteen thousand euros, and for what? She’d have to give it all back. And more, really. She’d wasted all this year’s money. Her parents would absolutely lose it on her. 

And that wasn’t all why she was pacing so much, unable to just fucking sit and figure out a plan. She hadn’t had any in ages, at least a couple days, all out of her spending money, and Sabi was prepared to fucking rob a convenience store at this point, although she knew she wouldn’t. She’d thrown up already twice in the bathroom but once in her room, which she didn’t have the urge to clean up, even though it was disgusting. Yesterday, she’d laid in bed all day, unable to move, but now she felt too agitated to sit still, just going round and round the bedroom until she felt her head was going to fly off. This was all her fault, she’d ruined everything. Sabi knew she should have told her mother she needed help, that she still felt sick and anxious every day, and now she felt even worse from failing. She wanted to die, plain and simple. It would make everything go away, the debt, the crippling physical pain she was feeling right now, the judgment and anger and sadness from her parents. The fact that she never talked to any of her friends anymore and nobody knew what was wrong. Sabi wished she knew what went wrong in her head to begin with herself. She remembered feeling happy in her childhood, she did. She was so happy until school became too much. 

Sabi wondered if maybe she shouldn’t go home. Home seemed daunting anyway. How could she even get a chance to even use any fucking heroin if she was at home? The Xanax wasn’t good enough anymore. She grabbed her cell phone, which had barely any charge because she hadn’t bothered to even touch it for a few days, but at least it had a little. She’d call her guy. She’d go out in a blaze of glory. Feel the best she ever had in her life then end it. 

“Hello? Who is this?”

“Sabine Roberto.”

“Jesus. I told you not to call during daytime hours, not on this number at least.”

“Then you shouldn’t have picked up. I’ve got fourteen thousand that I can give you, in cash. I wanted the nicest you possibly have.”

“Roberto, I’m a small fucking guy. I don’t just hand out that much! Jesus. Why do you want that much anyway? You wanna sell it yourself?”

“No, all for me.” Sabi tried to lay down, even though she still felt the need to walk around. “Look, I’m willing to go to a higher source. Can you please get it for me? I’m not kidding, I have fourteen thousand. I can hand it over in cash. I give you permission to really fuck me up if I don’t.”

There was a pause. A weird scruffle of paper. Finally, he came back on the line after what felt like ages, although it was probably only a few seconds. 

“Yeah, okay, Roberto. Okay. I’ll figure it out. Give me two days.”

“Two days? It can’t be tomorrow?”

“Two days. Live with yourself until then.” 

~

“Okay, it’s okay, Sabi. Deep breaths, deep breaths.”

Sabi kept gagging into the toilet bowl, unable to get it up. Marta was behind her, holding her upright with one hand, the other tucking Sabi’s stray curls behind her ears to keep them from touching the vomit. She’d sweated right through her blue overshirt and Marta had taken it off, down to just her t-shirt. She still felt too hot, hot enough that she was sobbing, her face a disgusting mess of tears and vomit. 

“It won’t, it won’t—“ Sabi’s body convulsed a little more, and she didn’t know if it was from her stomach trying its best to push all of its contents out roughly, from her weird temperature, or something else. 

“It’ll come, babe, it’ll come.” Marta was kissing her shoulder, her disgusting cheek. 

“I did this again. I did it to myself, I did it to you. Why do you put up with me? I hate myself, Marta.”

“Hey, hey, it’s addiction, babe. You’re not a bad person, you’re not.”

“And I put all my loved ones through it when I do this, Marta!” Sabi stopped and managed to throw up a bit. It scorched her throat, but Marta was already wiping her mouth and getting a little water into her. 

“We’ll get you through it, we’ll get you through it. We did it once before, we can do it again, together.”

“But why should I do that to you? I feel so selfish, I knew what I was doing and I let it happen. I lied and lied. I lied about why I crashed the minivan. I lied any time I went somewhere with Ozil.” Sabi leaned back into Marta. She didn’t think she was going to throw up again at the moment. 

“I know you lied. It doesn’t mean I stop loving you.”

Sabi choked out another sob. Marta was too good. It felt like everyone else in her life had stopped loving her, yet Marta was always there. Her parents had been livid, her mother no longer spoke to her at all, yet Marta had picked her up off the ground on her first day of prison, got her stronger. She’d started to feel like herself again. The anxiety never went away, but she felt different emotions again, not just bitter sadness. It was ridiculous to think it, but her time here in prison had been loads better than all of university, even her last year of high school. Because of Marta. She knew Marta loved her friends strongly, a loyalty that was unshakeable, to the point that all her old friends wrote her constantly, but Sabi couldn’t understand how it couldn’t be shaken after what she’d done. 

“I love you too, Marta. I love you so much.” Sabi rested in the crook of Marta’s arm. Marta reached over and ran her fingers over and over through Sabi’s hair. Sabi felt like an infant being swaddled, but that was okay. It felt like safety. 

“Hey, what’s going on in here?” Mascherano was tapping his baton on the edge of the bathroom door, too modest, or maybe just too polite, to come into the bathroom all the way. 

Marta paused for a moment, before deciding to be truthful. “It’s Bartra, I’m with Roberto. She’s been quite ill.”

“Does she need to go to the infirmary?”

“Perhaps that would be best, Masche. Could you help me get her up? Thank you.”

Mascherano stepped into the washroom, and Sabi felt resigned. Enrique would be angry with her for the drug use. She’d get into trouble. She didn’t know what kind of trouble, but trouble nonetheless. But she wasn’t angry with Marta. Marta was doing what was best for her, Marta loved her. 

~

~University of Barcelona residence, Spain, two years earlier~

There it was. In all its glory. Fourteen thousand dollars worth of heroin, just laid out on the bed. It was quite a sight, although Sabi had genuinely been expecting a bit more. She supposed it all did add up right, but she guessed that each chunk of one hundred or two hundred euros had just seemed smaller, more manageable amounts of money. Made it seem reasonable, when it really wasn’t. 

Sabi reveled in the joy for awhile, letting it sink in that this was all for her. There was so much that it would be a waste if she didn’t space this out. She’d have a lovely couple of days, all to herself. On the last day, she’d tell her parents and her friends that she loved them, and that would be that. Sabi seized a fresh syringe. She’d do some extra, but that was all. Make up for the past four days of absolute hell. 

After she’d shot up, Sabi settled onto her bed. There was a poster on the wall, one she’d bought at her school’s poster sale. It was of a line of kittens poking their heads out of teacups. Sabi couldn’t remember exactly why she bought it, but it was sweet. Very nice to look at it indeed. The kittens were comforting. Sabi realized that she probably wouldn’t want to get up for awhile, so before she totally blissed out, she ought to have a drink of water, maybe go to the bathroom. She could still stand and walk just fine. Sabi didn’t really notice anything around her, the edges of her vision all a blur, but she grabbed her cup and made her way to the bathroom. 

It was a longer trip than she thought. The hall suddenly seemed vast, and by the time she made it to the bathroom, everything felt like it was spinning. Sabi managed to get her cup down on the counter before wandering one-sidedly to a bathroom stall. She tried to sit down, just to even catch a breath, but missed the toilet seat and came crashing down onto the floor. After that, everything went blank. 

~

“I honestly just don’t get your fight, Cris. Whatever. Jamie is a Cancer like me, whatever is really bothering her will go away, you have to let us get moody like this. It’s not worth it to be so miserable about this, I really promise.” Gwen took too big of a bite of eggs and shoveled them into her mouth. 

Cristiana could barely look at Gwen. She felt so fucking guilty. Jamie was still making her feel guilty about it, and it sucked, it fucking sucked. All three Germans were still in solitary, and Rakitic was a wreck still. She hung about the halls whenever she could, begged others to watch out for her, just in case they pulled ter Stegen up and took her to maximum security prison. That wasn’t her fault, it was ter Stegen’s fault for trying to kill Ozil, but somehow, Cristiana still felt guilty. It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t told. It just wouldn’t have. Jamie was right. She didn’t even know how to apologize to her, though. She’d have to eat shit again, she knew she would. She wanted to tell Gwen and beg her forgiveness too, but how could she do that?

“Maybe. She’s pretty mad at me.”

“She’ll be fine, Cris. Chin up. And if she’s not fine, then you really do have to talk it out with her. I could even help.”

“How do you stay so positive, Gwen? You’re just this ray of sunshine.”

“Took a LOT of work, Cris. I promise. And you are getting better at it, or at least you were. You’re in a low patch, I get them too. I mean…I don’t try to let it show a lot to the group, but sometimes I just break down. Only Sabina sees that, though.”

Gwen was far too nice. Cristiana nodded and got up, with her half-finished yoghurt. “I’ll catch you later, okay, Gwen?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Cris.”

Cristiana got up, but then there was a lot of women getting up, noises and even some cheers. She turned, and it was Kroos coming down into the dining room, looking worse for wear and greasy but smiling and waving. She’d become a hero in her absence, the story of her standing up to Sanchez in the infirmary already a legend. It was a brave thing, Cristiana agreed. She’d had a nightmare day, realizing what she’d done to everyone in the group, but Kroos really had stepped up. Women were clapping her on the back, telling her what a champ she was as she took her regular seat at the Eurotrash table. She looked happy, an odd sort of glowing that she’d never seen from Kroos before. A big grin, a genuine one, when Cristiana only saw bitter, sarcastic smiles and grins out of her before. 

Ozil was also coming up the hall, but to no fanfare at all. She looked rough, really rough, but nobody really gave much of a care. Cristiana was in shock. Ter Stegen truly had beaten the ever-loving shit out of her. There was crusted scabs on her face and still the remnants of black eyes, and Cristiana became all too aware that she was missing teeth. She’d definitely had all her teeth before. 

“Maria? Where’s Maria?” Rakitic’s voice was high-pitched and panicked. Kroos and Ozil were released, but ter Stegen was nowhere to be found. Had they ferried her away to maximum security, in the middle of the night? If she was still down in solitary, why? Rakitic was still prattling off all these questions when Roccuzzo jogged over right to the table, which was breaking protocol.

“Rakitic? She’s still down there. She was meant to come up today, but she asked to stay downstairs for a few more days. She says she isn’t strong enough to come up right now. I mean, you can’t really argue with that, as a guard. We went and asked Enrique, we did. He said leave her down there to stew if she wants to be that way.”

Rakitic sighed deeply in relief and flopped back down on the bench of the table. Cristiana could see that her hands were shaking strongly, but that she was started to calm down. 

“Why wouldn’t she want to be free from the hole?” Cristiana sat back down and tried hard to look Rakitic in the eye. 

“She’s still angry.” Rakitic rubbed her face a bit and wiped a few tears away. Cristiana realized they were not sad tears, but very joyous ones. Ter Stegen wasn’t leaving her. Cristiana didn’t get it at all, not a bit, but she guessed she couldn’t judge any of the bonds in here. They loved each other, even if one was sweet and bubbly and the other had a penchant for violence. 

Modric was coming over to Rakitic’s side of the bench to hug her shoulders and Cristiana got back up. For a moment, Cristiana wondered if prison was always this dramatic, or if it just went with her everywhere she went. 

~

~Hospital Clinic de Barcelona, Spain, two years earlier~

“Good morning, Sabine. Can you hear me?”

Sabi opened her eyes. They blurred for a moment, then came into focus. A bright room, bright and light and clinical. A hospital. Fuck, no. No. That isn’t what she wanted.

“Yes, I can hear.” Sabi tried to move her arms. There were tubes attached to them and they felt stiff. 

“Do you know why you’re in here? Do you remember?”

“I took some heroin.”

“Do you know how much you took?”

Sabi shook her head. Her head hurt from doing that, so Sabi faced forward again and tried not to move it. She took more than she normally did, she knew that. But it shouldn’t have done this. She vaguely remembered asking for the “best stuff,” but who the hell knew what that meant? She finally focused in on the voice asking these questions. A nurse, a female nurse whose nametag said Nina. Sabi wished Nina would go away. 

“You gave your floormates quite a fright.”

“Oh yes?” Sabi didn’t know what else to say. She probably had. She’d caused an incident that would probably be talked about all week, while everyone finished exams and departed for home. She was sure it’d spread all over the entirety of residence, because that sort of thing always did. 

“I feel not very good.”

“Well, for one, you had an overdose, I imagine you don’t. Two, you hit your head in the bathroom, which knocked you out and is contributing now to you not feeling well.”

Sabi nodded slightly, trying hard not to shift her head much.

“Is my mom coming?”

“Your family was alerted last night. They were here last night to my knowledge, but it is early right now.”

“Oh. Okay.” Sabi rubbed at a little pilled spot on the hospital blanket, looking up when there was a knock on the outside of the open door, a light and gentle knock. Sabi tried to turn her head to see if it was her mom, but instead, it was a police officer. He was holding his hat in his hands, looking mild and calm and curiously a little woebegone. 

“Sabine Roberto?”

“Mmm?” Sabi now felt very ill, far sicker than she felt before. 

“We’re placing you under arrest for large-scale possession of a dangerous narcotic.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta makes a choice to save Sabi, while Ramos has to make her own choice during the big football match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is a death at the very end of this chapter. 
> 
> Hello everyone! Sorry that this chapter took kinda long, I had a few things going on. As a treat, it's a bit longer, and I've finally introduced Jamie's backstory.
> 
> On a side note, I've noticed how few people are picking this up or letting me know it's okay. PLEASE tell me if there are things I can improve, as I've felt a little disheartened at the lack of interest in the fic. I know it's long. :)

~Barcelona, Spain, three years earlier~

“And then he said to me, Marta, he said to me, ‘Oh, you know, I just never been with a black girl, thought it’d be more different than that,’ fuckin’ unreal, right? You have a light on you?”

“What did you tell him?” Marta handed over her lighter to Pierretta. It was a pretty brisk day, quiet and rather scenic in a funny way, so she’d asked Pierretta for a walk. A walk through the regular neighbourhoods full of nice, middle-class families. Pierretta said this sort of weather always reminded her of her time when she lived in France when she was a kid, so it seemed a nice day to walk about. 

Pierretta lit her cigarette and took a long drag. “I didn’t really say anything. I mean, it was racist, but he’d already paid anyway.”

“Gotta be stricter with them, babe.” Marta was always saying this. Relentlessly, even. Pierretta was getting better at standing up for herself, but it sometimes felt like it wasn’t fast enough. Those comments were bad, unacceptable, and she needed to fight them better when they said them. But Marta knew she was trying. It seemed so many of the girls she knew let themselves be walked all over. Marta wanted to smack them all over the head a little bit, teach them better. All of them were strong as fuck, she just wished they didn’t have to take that crap. 

“I know. Hey, I hate to do this, you got fifty bucks too? I’m a little short on rent this month. I’ll pay you back.”

“Yeah, I think I’ve got it. It’s okay.” Marta knew that a little too well too. She wasn’t super good with her money, if she was honest. She never had been and she wondered if she ever would be. She’d borrowed money lots of times, even though she made decent cash, and she’d lent it out too. Marta wished there was a better system out there, past renting shitty small places. She didn’t, but she knew a lot of girls who lived alone so they could bring guys back, and it was expensive. Expensive as all hell in this city. 

“These houses are so pretty out here. Kinda old-school, right?” Pierretta puffed away at her cigarette. Marta could only imagine how broke she’d be if she smoked too. 

“Yeah, they are. I always kinda wanted to live in one when I was small, with the backyard and all that.”

“Well, that one’s for rent.” Pierretta laughed dryly and pointed. Marta looked over. It was actually quite the house, rather old, but it had cool architecture and it was big. Really big. It probably had a lot of rooms. Immediately, wheels started spinning in Marta’s brain, despite herself. It was a dumb idea, she immediately knew it. Have houses full of hookers wasn’t illegal, per say, but it was a risky game to play. But the rent. The rent for each girl would be so fucking low, she bet. A house like this would be a lot by itself, but if it was split between six girls at least, even seven or eight if possible.

“Are you coming, Marta? You look gormless.”

“Yeah, I’m coming.” Marta hadn’t realized how long she’d been staring at the big old house. She trotted off after Pierretta, giving one last glance at the house. She’d contact the renter, see what the rates were. There was no harm in it.

~

“Yes, come in, Bartra. What’s all this, why did you need to see me so quickly?” Enrique was leaning back in chair, bending it far enough back that Marta wondered if it was going to fall backwards. 

“It’s about Roberto.”

“It’s never a good idea to get into another inmate’s business, Bartra, you know that.”

Marta sighed and sat down opposite Enrique. “You know nobody follows that rule.”

“Start following it, she’s not a concern to you.”

“Now, you know that’s not true. It isn’t wicked, or even stupid, to care about someone’s well-being.” Marta tried to phrase herself carefully. She’d have to take the whole conversation carefully, really. Sabi was currently in the care of the infirmary, where they were trying to get her out of her withdrawal without stressing out the other inmates and causing an upset. Marta had been on pins and needles for a few days, and she knew she had good reason. Guards had sacked Sabi’s room, pulling it apart and looking in every crevice, but they’d sacked Ozil’s too. Sabi had snitched, probably unwillingly, but it didn’t look good. Ozil had a big target on her head, especially after the nightmare with Maria, who was still apparently refusing to come out of solitary confinement, but they’d not found anything. They now had direct evidence against Sabi, which Marta had been afraid of. 

“Let the people meant to handle it, handle it.” Enrique was being gentle with her, at least. Marta didn’t usually back-talk any of the guards unless they really deserved it, if they said something unacceptable about her. She’d only been written up once or twice, so he should have no reason to be rude. 

“What I mean to say is, Roberto isn’t guilty here. We all know that. She’s just a regular girl.”

“Any investigation is kept private, Bartra, you know that.”

“I see what’s going on. If…if there’s any reason you don’t trust her anymore, or find some reason to think her guilty of like, I don’t know, HAVING drugs on her person, what, what happens?”

“Bartra.”

“Okay, look.” Marta caught Enrique’s eye and held onto it. She dared not lose his attention. Her pitch was at stake here and she was determined not to let it fail. “We know Roberto is just a kid screwing up. But kids screw up. Jail time for a drug user, a mentally ill drug user, is stupid. Giving her a worse punishment would just, it would make things so much worse.”

“What are you suggesting, Bartra?”

“Look, I don’t really know what I fully mean. She just doesn’t deserve anything worse.”

“It sounds like you’re asking me to give her preferential treatment?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, then yes?”

“And what would that do for me, Bartra?”

Enrique wasn’t looking away from her. Marta knew she had eyes that could bore through someone, make them thinki”ng she was seeing their every thought. Marta was good at reading people, she could admit. Especially men. Suddenly, now, she saw Enrique’s face change just slightly, the corner of his lips turn up. 

“I imagine it would be of many benefits to you, if you were to do so.” Marta wouldn’t look away. She couldn’t lose this fight. She didn’t demure to men.

“Tell me some of these benefits, Bartra.”

Marta watched every muscle twitch in his face. Fuck, she couldn’t make a mistake on this. She couldn’t misread the situation. 

“I mean,” Marta stood up and came around Enrique’s desk. “I can probably show you the benefits.”

“Bartra…”

“I’ll do anything to protect that girl.” Marta knew she was giving away too much when she said it, making herself too vulnerable, but she meant it. Marta would truly do anything for Sabi. 

Enrique stilled for a minute, before taking his belt and opening it. 

“Wait.” Marta put her hand out and Enrique’s hands dropped. “I need a guarantee. I need to know she’s going to be safe. I’m not doing this without knowing she’ll be safe.”

“What guarantee can I give you past my word, Bartra? I’ll keep her safe. You have my promise.”

Marta sighed and shook her hands out a bit. This should be easy. It was work. Work for something, an exchange. An exchange she would have to trust would happen. For some reason, Marta felt ill. She didn’t know why. She’d done this for years. 

“Okay, what would you like?”

“Strip off, Bartra. You’re a beauty, you know. A truly exquisite masterpiece underneath these baggy sacks. Show me that body of yours.”

Marta felt clammy, but shook her head a bit to snap out of it. She was a professional. Marta put on a demure style instead.

“Of course. Your wish is my command.” Marta tried to slowly peel off her ugly layers, hoping she hadn’t lost her touch for looking sexy while stripping. Enrique went back to removing his belt, pulling down his own pants. She realized he wasn’t getting any more naked than that, but he expected her fully stripped to nothing. It partly made her angry, that entitlement, but half of her didn’t mind. She didn’t want to even see Enrique’s dick, even if that was all she had to look at. It didn’t make sense. She’d seen a million dicks in her lifetime, and hadn’t cared. They were just, little insignificant nothings, yet this one seemed horrible and daunting. 

“I had a rule, when I used to work, you know.” Marta finished getting undressed, dragging her fingers down her tits and body to excite him, before taking hold of his dick. 

“What’s that?”

“I only work if my client has protection.”

“I’m no client, I’m doing something for you.” Enrique paused anyway, before getting a little key and unlocking his desk, taking out his wallet. Oh god. He had a condom in his wallet like a horny teenager. Marta was at least relieved that he had one. He probably wasn’t angry about using it either, he knew the risks of what he was doing. 

“Mmmmmm, thank you. Can I call you Luis?” Marta purred, still feeling sick to her stomach. The actions came out easily enough, even though it had been awhile. But somehow, even though Marta had been the one to offer, something felt so terribly wrong. Like he was still using her. He had complete control over her now, and she’d given it away. It also made her sick to think about how he’d been so willing. He was the fucking warden, he saw what the other guards did, and yet, he’d just said yes. Marta had barely twisted his arm.

“Luis is fine my dear.”

“Good.” Marta finished jerking him off, deciding he was well and hard enough. She’d been gentle, trying more to simply get him aroused enough to be excited, rather than really jerk him off hard. Light stroking always drove men wild. He wasn’t moving from the chair, but that was okay. She’d do the work. Marta got up on his lap and guided him into her, feeling cold and empty even though she hadn’t been fucked in ages. She wrapped her arms around his neck and mumbled filth in his ear, amazed that she hadn’t lost her touch. 

Sex with Enrique went the way she expected. She’d touch his face, touch her own tits and just keep saying how hot and amazing this all way, even though they both knew it was a lie. A lie he bought anyway, even if it was some amazing cognitive dissonance stepping in that kept him from coming to his senses. He came too fast for a man his age, something Marta was grateful for. She wondered if he had a wife. A pang of guilt washed over her, for a moment, but it had to be pushed aside. Many of the men she fucked had wives, that was just, part of the job, even if it was a shit part. 

Marta slid off him and immediately reached for her underwear. Enrique at least had the foresight to take off the condom and zip himself back into his pants, watching her as she scrabbled back into her clothes, desperate to get herself out of the office, away from the stench of the sex she’d just let herself have. 

“Enrique?” Marta already couldn’t bear to call him by his first name like she had just minutes before.

“Mm?”

“You promise, right?”

“I promise.” 

Marta rushed out of the room, forcing herself not to slam the door when she left. Her eyes were growing wet, horrible traitorous tears starting to form in her eyes. Not today. If her makeup ran, everyone would know something was wrong. Marta dabbed at her eyes and marched onwards down the hall back to the salon. 

~

“I really didn’t think I’d need to mediate you guys so much, Jamie, I thought once you were together, everything would be fine.”

“Just let me be mad at her, Gwen.” Jamie didn’t feel like talking right now, at all. Not to Gwen even, despite being the easiest one to talk to. She couldn’t explain herself to Gwen, she couldn’t rat Cristiana out no matter how angry she was. Having Gwen poke and prod with questions was just making things annoying, and particularly uncomfortable. She’d found her outside while Jamie was trying to take a little break in silence and play a sudoku behind the kitchen loading dock with nobody around, which was frustrating. She liked Gwen, but she got too involved in everyone’s lives sometimes. 

“Do you want to break up with her, for whatever she’s done?”

Jamie considered this for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think so, Gwen. Yeah, I’m really mad, but like…Cristiana does, just, really jackass stupid things sometimes. She knows she did a shit thing anyway.”

“Don’t we all do stupid things. I don’t get why neither of you will just tell me what happened. It’s really fucking weird.” 

“It’s…different, Gwen, I can’t…”

“You don’t want to snitch on her. Not even if it’s to me?”

Jamie shook her head again. “It has to come from her if anybody tells you. You’re going to be angry at her too and she doesn’t want you to be, so she’s being a coward.” 

“You’ve really got me thinking, Jamie. I’m super curious. Does it have anything to do with all the drama that’s been going on around here? I mean, I guess it would. I’ll try not to get mad if she does tell me. I’ll ask her, I’ll be nice to her.”

“She’s embarrassed too.” Jamie folded down the corner of her sudoku page and closed the book, before laying right down on the pavement and staring up at the sky. 

“I’ll ask her to be straight up to be honest with me, I’ll leave you alone about it, okay girl? Speaking of which, so Sabina named her lineup for the game tomorrow, I don’t think you were around, off sulking. I came out anyway to tell you anyway.”

“Oh.” Jamie had forgotten about the game Neymar was throwing. She knew the rule was that they had to all play nice, and there were going to be a LOT of guards refereeing. A red card meant time in solitary so everyone was meant to be on their best behaviour. 

“So Sabina named Cris as the striker, me as a winger, and I think she wanted you as a tentative winger although she’s not sure if you’re up for that so she might end up putting you in midfield with Toni and Luka. She’s put herself in the back with Pepa and Dani, but she doesn’t know who to put in goal at the moment. That’s okay, I hear neither does Messi. She was intending to put ter Stegen in, I think, but she won’t come out of solitary.”

“That’s not enough people for our side, though.”

“I think, actually, that we might be playing with a bit less. Messi can’t find enough people either. She can’t play her girlfriend Kun, who probably wouldn’t play if her life depended on it anyways, she can’t play ter Stegen, she can’t play Roberto. Right now I think she’s using herself, Neymar, and that Suarez woman as her forwards, I think she wants a really aggressive front to be honest. She has Pique in the back and I think Bartra, which is weird, she’ll probably be really bad, and she’s gotten desperate so she’s enlisted her roommate Daniela Alves, you know that lady? Hangs out with like, Mama Marcelo and stuff a lot? Anyway, she’s managed to get her to play in the back. So far I think she has Ivana and Neymar’s friend Rafa in the midfield so she’s feeling kind of fucked.”

Jamie started to laugh. This was so stupid, it was all so fucking stupid, but Gwen was taking it dead seriously. It wasn’t even that Jamie didn’t like watching football matches, it was fine. But she could not for a second imagine why everyone was so fucking excited for this game. It would probably end in chaos anyway. 

~Ibagué, Colombia, eleven years earlier~

“Good, good Jamie! Again! Again! Again!”

Jamie was exhausted. She wanted to go take a break on the bench, but no such luck. She was on a winning streak, so she kept having to play other kids. It wasn’t fair. The other girls were starting to get annoyed with her too, and they didn’t really want to play her today. Jamie never tried to be mean. She’d always had strong legs, she just did what she was told, which was to use them. Coach always said that judo was a sport that you should use your legs a lot with, to pull opponents to the ground, so she was just trying to do that. 

There was noise from the bench as Jamie waited absently, hands by her side, on the floor for her next opponent. The girls shuffling around, before Ana finally got up.

“Make sure you don’t let her tits get in the way or pin you down themselves!” Someone called from the bench, and everyone laughed, including Ana. Jamie felt like dying. She’d developed early, at least in that area. Mama always said it just meant she’d be a good mom one day, with good healthy breasts for feeding babies, but it didn’t mean everyone didn’t make fun of them now. Jamie wondered a little bit if big breasts were all they were really cracked up to be, secretly. They were supposed to be special boy-catchers, she knew too, but something about the gaze she now got from the boys in school bothered her. Like the attention that was supposed to be good wasn’t really. Every shirt, even her school uniform, felt slutty these days. 

“Enough, enough. I want a fair match, girls. Commence.”

Ana was alright, as an opponent, in general. Jamie wondered if she was getting too tired to really fight off any other girls for the day, or if the jeering comments made her want to fight harder. It was hard to say. The snipes hurt, but Jamie was always one to waver between being hurt and wanting to give up, to wanting to show everyone up. 

Better to show them up, at least today. Ana kept going for Jamie’s arms, taking a route that was smart, really. She’s wasn’t very strong, but she knew Jamie was not too strong in her arm area either, so it wasn’t a bad plan. Jamie still managed to hook Ana’s leg out from under her and get her to the ground, but then it was a bit of a scuffle between the two of them. She couldn’t get Ana on her back, and she was doing everything in her power to get back up. No. Not today. How embarrassing to end a day losing, and Jamie wasn’t going to have it. They got back up and started again, and this time, Jamie managed to get her back down. Twenty-five seconds. That’s all she had to last with Ana on her back. Those seconds always felt too long, minutes and minutes, but eventually, Coach was calling the game over and taking her hand to hold it over her head in victory. 

There were grumbles from the other girls. Ana got up and bowed a little bit, half-heartedly, to Jamie, then stalked off to the rest of the group. Someone whispered something, then there was more snickers and giggles. Whatever they’d said about her must have been real hilarious, she bet. It wasn’t very fair. She knew kids her age fucking loved bullying people, and she could handle it without taking it too much to heart, but it seemed everywhere she went, she’d get dragged for something different. She read too much at school and was too bookish to half the popular kids, and was a try-hard with slutty outfits to the other half. It never ended. 

“Are we all done? I’m tired.” 

Coach nodded, and Jamie headed off to the locker room without a pause. 

~ 

“Hey, Cris?”

Cristiana turned from the television in the recreation room to see Gwen awkwardly standing near the couch. It was a shit game, two Liga teams that nobody would turn out to watch for a million years. That had kind of been the plan. Try and focus on the game as prep for tomorrow, while simultaneously still laying low. Cristiana knew that just wouldn’t be possible tomorrow, but she’d been trying the rest of the time anyway.

“Yeah, Gwen?”

“Can I sit down?”

Cristiana nodded and made room for Gwen to tuck in next to her. Gwen had a serious expression on her face and Cristiana had no idea what to make of it, honestly.

“I spoke with Jamie today. You’re making a face already, I can see that. I spoke with Jamie but she didn’t tell me what your fight was about, anyway. She said it was something that you really should tell me.”

Cristiana grabbed the remote and muted the TV. Fuck. Telling Gwen was the last thing she wanted to do. But now, Jamie had really put the idea in Gwen’s head that she needed to know. Cristiana rubbed the bridge of her nose and looked up, trying hard not to cry. 

“I haven’t wanted to because you’ll hate me.”

“Jamie said I would be angry. But I’m here, I’m listening. Cris, what’s up? What could you and Jamie’s fight have to do with me?”

Cristiana felt her light stream of tears coming down her cheeks burst into a waterfall. “I told Zidane about all the heroin in the basement! It’s my fault everyone got strip-searched and their room ransacked! It’s my fault everyone got violated! I’m sorry, Gwen!”

Gwen looked surprised and leaned back a bit, deep in thought. “Jesus, Cris.”

“Are you angry with me?” Cristiana tried to wipe her face a bit. It was hard to gauge what Gwen was thinking. She wasn’t reaching out to comfort Cristiana, nor did she really look upset.

“I mean, yeah, kinda, Cris. It’s not great.”

“I thought you’d be more upset. Jamie was so mad. I tried to apologize, I did. She wouldn’t take it. Does she hate me forever? Do you hate me?”

“Nobody hates you, Cris, it’s just sometimes we can see your head still isn’t screwed on to what’s going on in here with everyone else around you. She said she doesn’t hate you, she doesn’t want to break up with you.”

Cristiana felt a pang of relief. “Really?” 

“I’ll tell her I know now, she’ll rant about you and get it out of her system and then come make up with you.” Gwen settled down a seat away from Cristiana on the sofa and crossed her arms, turning her attention to the game. “Fuck, on no planet should Osasuna be winning this.”

“Are…” Cristiana felt thrown off by Gwen. She wasn’t being nearly as friendly and cuddly, but there she was, still talking, having already moved on to a neutral topic. “So, are you mad at me?”

“What’s done as done. I’m not happy, I don’t think anyone would be, but look at you, you’re eating yourself alive over it. You’re sorry. And…okay, anyway, Cris,” Gwen inched closer towards Cristiana. “Give yourself some a little credit. Once this whole fucking mess happened, it’s pretty much been found out it was Melek Ozil all along. They haven’t pegged her yet but they’re going to, I think. So it wasn’t for nothing. Everybody hates her now anyway.”

“You’re too nice to me.”

“We do our best in here to make you like us but you just won’t go. That’s okay.”

“I don’t think you’re like them either.”

“Maybe. Let’s have fun tomorrow at the game, okay? Let’s just have fun and not worry about all this going on. Stop giving me that mopey face, I don’t hate you, we’re alright.”

~

~Madrid, Spain, nine years earlier~

“How close are we, Rico? I’ve got someone coming in at quarter past nine.” 

“Hang in there, hang in there. Good work takes time.”

“Wasn’t supposed to take this long, It’s nine already, Rico.” Sabina snapped a bit more than she should at the tattoo artist than she should. You don’t fuck with your tattoo artist. Sabina tried to calm down a bit, and shifted to resting her cheek against the back of the chair she was straddling. Sabina never went to tattoo parlours, she hated how tacky they generally looked and didn’t like that there usually windows people could watch through. It was better to have them come to her, so here he was, in her office deep in the recesses of a shitty donair shop. 

“Sorry, Rico. It’s fine. How’s it looking?”

“It’s good. Just finished the moon, I still need to do shading and the second smaller wolf you wanted howling at the moon.”

Sabina rolled her eyes but said nothing. He was turned away from here, he wouldn’t be able to see. This piece really was taking him ages.

“Yeah, alright.”

“You want me to leave when whoever you’re meeting comes in?”

“Nah. As long as you know to keep your mouth shut about whatever you hear in here. I’ll pay extra if you want.”

“I won’t say no to that.” Rico wiped up a spot before starting a new one. Getting a tattoo was always a curious sort of pain. It did hurt, and all, but it was a sort of burn that Sabina didn’t mind. Well, she clearly didn’t, considering she had enough tattoos already. Back tattoos were definitely her favourite, even though she had more on her arms. Back tattoos were the sort where you could do really big, beautiful pieces, honestly. 

There was a little knock on the door. Timid. Great. Sabina didn’t have time to work with someone without balls today. In a way, nobody who came for her services really had balls, actually, although Sabina figured she didn’t either. That’s why they were here, to get help. But she needed her clients to actually, you know, have conviction in what they were coming to her for, not some fucking wet mop. 

“Yeah, come in!”

A small man opened the door and peeked inside. Sabina straightened her head and rested her chin against the top of the chair, waiting for him to come inside, a firm look on her face. She had to look quite a sight, topless and straddling a chair, her tits only covered by the back of it, while someone did tattoo work right there. Actually, Sabina decided, this was better. Made her look more menacing. 

“Oh, shit, sorry, sorry, I was looking for a Ramos?”

“This is she.”

“Oh. You’re Ramos. Um, oh.” The guy came inside and stood awkwardly, before Sabina looked at the chair in front of her desk and nodded. He sat flatly in it, looking strained. 

“You name is Alex, right? So you’ve got someone you need taking care of. Talk to me. Don’t waste my time.”

“Uhhhh, erm, this is hard for me to say, I…”

“I’m going to tell you right now, if you want your girl’s new boyfriend done in, it’s extra. We’ll do anyone but I don’t take kindly to people who have stupid grudges for no real reason.”

“Oh. I’m, I’m—“

“A new boyfriend. Look, my guy, are you serious about this or what?”

“How much does it cost?”

“Regular? Thirty grand. New boyfriend?” Sabina looked this guy up and down. He really did look weak and pathetic. She normally said forty grand, but he looked so ridiculous that she softened, just slightly. “Thirty-five.”

“Right. Do you…do you do it yourself?”

Sabina laughed ruefully. This is what she meant by having no balls herself. She’d never knocked someone off, not once in her life. She was just as much a coward as the people that came to her. The difference was, and maybe it was a worse difference, but she’d decided to capitalize on the fact that there were so many weak people out there with grudges. And some people had pretty fucking good reasons to want people dead. So Sabina made herself an easy middleman, someone impartial who would had a collection of hitmen at her disposal to do the jobs neatly. She’d take out anyone except for the gang she was tied to, even if it was loosely. It had been an easy decision after she’d had to run through so many fucking hoops to get the job done for Nando. Make it accessible for people. 

“Of course not. I have people for that. You want to talk business? I need all your guy’s info. All your girl’s info.”

“Yeah, um, okay. I can get that.” He was bringing out his phone. Jesus. He hadn’t even come prepared with anything printed out. 

“Alright, mate, you sort yourself out. Just let me know.”

~

“Okay, girls, I want an honest and fair match, you know the rules, one smaller infraction, we’ll write you up, two infractions and you’re spending a few days in solitary, same goes for one major infraction.”

Sabina nodded, trying hard not to roll her eyes at Zidane. Messi was doing the same thing. Everyone knew how football worked, this was stupid. But she supposed they all needed to hear it one last time.

“Did you hear that, Pique?” Zidane reiterated, again, and Sabina tried not to laugh now. Pique was muttering that she had to Zidane, then straightened up to her position. Zidane handed the ball over to Roccuzzo, one of the referees, which Sabina was cursing at, who gave it to Messi for kickoff. Of course she got it. Sabina moved back into her end, immediately frustrated. She hadn’t played a lot of sports in her day, so she’d made the choice to put Ronaldo up front, maybe against her better judgment. Gwen was slim and had really liked playing football in university, she knew, so she was a safe bet, and Jamie used to play other sports, so Sabina was trying very hard to take a step back as leader, even though she was still captain, and let them handle the brunt of the work. It really was amazing, actually, to watch Messi play. Sabina didn’t know a lot about Messi’s past, but she did know she had trained professionally, at some point, even if she had just been a kid, and it was really showing. For someone who looked chubby and unathletic from the outside, Sabina became aware that she was actually probably packed with muscle, and god, was she fast. 

Pepa was doing her best to keep Messi at bay from the goal, whom Sabina had shoved some random girl from the South American table named Navas in and told her to try her fucking best. She was looking anxious right now, awkwardly trying to dodge, but it was too late. Sabina had been watching Messi too much, and not playing enough. Messi had just scored against the awkward Navas, and suddenly, she was making a face that Sabina had never seen before. Pure, absolute bliss. This was a face that Sabina hadn’t even seen when Messi looked at Neymar’s tits. Truly incredible. Sabina straightened up, anyway. No more of this. It would be hard to keep her back but they had to try. 

“RONALDO! LOOK ALIVE! JAMIE, MOVE FORWARD, ALRIGHT?” Sabina called downfield. They nodded, and Jamie trotted towards the box. Sabina felt a moment of relief when Jamie gave Ronaldo a quick hug and pat on the back, then backed up to wing her. Not that she cared about their relationship, but it was going to make for a shit game if they wouldn’t pass to each other. Everybody had been shaken awake, which was good. Kroos and Modric made sure to follow Messi everywhere she went, and right before the clock was supposed to go for half time, Ronaldo finally managed to actually fucking score. Fucking good. Make Messi sweat. Well, they were all sweaty, really, except Messi and Ronaldo. Everyone was woefully out of shape, including herself, and Sabina needed a fucking drink of water and a chance to go to the bathroom. There were girls on all sides of the makeshift pitch applauding, rooting for either one side or the other, and Sabina felt some relief that they weren’t making total asses of themselves, but she had to get inside now.

“Taking my fifteen inside, I won’t be late.” Sabina knocked whoever was nearest on the shoulder, which happened to be Dani, and marched inside. It was weird to have such silent halls, but everyone, literally everyone, was outside for the match.

Or so she thought. There were voices coming from around the corner. Sabina inched forward and looked. Ozil and Giroud, both practically screaming at each other.

“I’M THIS FUCKING CLOSE TO GETTING SENT TO MAX, AND YOU HAVEN’T DONE SHIT!”

“I PUT THE SHIT IN ROBERTO’S ROOM. I TOOK IT DURING THE SEARCH TO ENRIQUE. NOTHING FUCKING HAPPENED. HE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING!”

“WHY THE FUCK NOT!”

Sabina stepped back behind the wall, in shock. Giroud had been conspiring with Ozil over this drug shit. For some reason, they’d tried to pin it on awkward ter Stegen, she knew, and now on Roberto. Not that she cared about either of them, but that was fucked up. Giroud was stomping off in the opposite direction, and Sabina waited until he was all the way gone, before coming up and tapping Ozil on the shoulder. She jerked. 

“What the fuck do you want?”

“Ozil. We haven’t really talked. I’m Ramos. You want to come with me?”

“Not really.” 

Sabina grabbed Ozil’s shoulder. “I think you do.”

Ozil’s overly-large eyes widened, and she followed this time. Sabina walked her into the closest private place she could think of, the janitor’s closet, and shut the door.

“Had your fun, now?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cut that fuckin’ shit with me, Ozil. You’ve fucked up. You’ve lost. You’re going to a place where you won’t be able to pull that shit.”

“I’d rather die than go back there.” Ozil snarled in Sabina’s face.

Sabina waited for a second, unsure of what to do next. “Oh really?”

“Leave me the fuck alone, you fucking nobody. Let me out.”

“You know, Ozil, you’ve caused me quite a bit of grief here. Quite a bit.” Sabina reached for the coil of electric cord behind her cautiously. This was a big fucking step. She’d put herself in this room with Ozil, and at this rate, Ozil could say anything if she let her out. 

“Yeah, okay, so I fucked up. I majorly fucked up and I’m fucked. What do you want from me?”

“You put one of my girls in solitary. I don’t take kindly to people hurting my girls.”

“Ter Stegen’s not your girl.”

“But Kroos is.”

“She did that to herself.”

“Stop side-stepping. You know you’re why everyone was put in that position. Kroos has more integrity than you ever could possibly have in your life.”

“Oh, because you have integrity?”

“I sure don’t.” Sabina took the cord and wrapped it around Ozil’s neck, pulling it tight. God, what the fuck was she doing? Ozil was struggling, trying to get her fingers under the cord to breathe, but Sabina only pulled tighter. It was a horrible, horrible sight, to see Ozil’s face turn blue, but Sabina couldn’t stop. When Ozil’s face finally went blank, Sabina worked fast. She didn’t know if she was dead yet, but she dragged Ozil’s body up onto a crate and managed to sling the rest of the cord several times around the water pipe hanging low from the roof, then kicked the crate out. Ozil’s body hung, and Sabina felt relief. It looked like a suicide, for sure. A suicide because of what she did. Sabina felt like choking out a sob at what she herself had done, the feeling so much more awful than she had ever been expecting. It wasn’t the same when she sent others to do it, god, it wasn’t. Sabina pushed her way out of the janitor’s closet and rushed back outside, unsure of how she was possibly going to be able to play the second half.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prison deals with the discovery of Ozil's body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I've finished all my big papers for the term, and now only have two exams! Enjoy this chapter and please let me know how you're liking it!

“Maybe you should tell your great captain to wake the fuck up.” Pique dodged and managed to kick the ball out from between Gwen’s feet, which was annoying. She was big and Gwen didn’t like fucking with Pique generally, so she was capitulating a little too easily. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, Pique.” Gwen let Pique run off with the ball, then stood still for a moment to put her hands on her knees and catch her breath. They were down two more goals in the second half, one more by Messi, and one she’d graciously passed to Neymar. Time was really ticking here, and Sabina looked like she was in a trance. She was still moving and playing, but it’s like she wasn’t seeing anyone around her. Gwen wanted to go ask her what was wrong, but she’d probably get told off for leaving her position. 

Only three players had gotten yellow cards, which was kind of amazing. It was Pique, Suarez, and Pepa, which all made sense. They all had such pent-up rage in their soul, so much that Gwen felt for them. Gwen had half-been expecting a yellow card from Sabina, getting into a squabble with Pique or something else, but nothing. Just, wandering around after the ball with dead eyes. 

“Modric, pass it over here, I’m open!” 

Gwen could see Dani calling across the field for Luka to pass it down to them so they could regroup and send it back up. Gwen felt proud for a moment that Luka had worked the ball away from Pique. She hadn’t been the strongest midfield choice so far. She kept stopping when the ball was away from her to talk to Rakitic in the middle of the field. Pique had already yelled at Rakitic to stop doing it, and Gwen had expected Sabina to snap at Luka about it, but nothing yet. 

Dani swung the ball over to Sabina, who looked at the ball between her feet, then kicked it hard. It rattled across the field above everyone’s heads and into the unsuspecting goal of Messi’s side. Fuck. There were cheers all around from the side of girls supporting them, and Gwen ran to give Sabina a hug. Others were going to pat her on the back, but Sabina only went for her, taking her in the hug and pushing Gwen’s head to her chest, before leaning down and planting a kiss on her sweaty head. Weird. Gwen could feel how hard Sabina’s heart was beating.

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Sabina let go and then ran off, but it was only a minute or two more before Zidane blew the whistle. Sigh. Gwen wiped her brow a bit, then clapped with everyone else. It didn’t feel that nice to lose, but they’d tried their best, and they hadn’t bombed. Messi was probably angry she hadn’t slaughtered them, although Gwen knew that Messi had truly wanted a challenge. So maybe it was alright. Gwen lined up with the rest of her team to shake everyone’s hand, thankful that Zidane and Enrique had agreed that the players got to take a shower midday after the match. Messi was at least being a gracious winner, offering a half handshake-hug to Sabina, the kind that footballers on the telly loved. The sort where you shook hands and pulled each other in for a firm pat on the back before letting go. Sabina still looked weirdly numb, but politely performed the action with Messi back. Zidane and Enrique were now all smiles, pleased with the sportsmanship. 

“Alright, everyone, inside. Party time is over!”

Everyone started moving towards the door, the excitement of the game already starting to wear off. There were still chores to be done. The two teams sluggishly headed towards the showers, all feeling exhausted, except for Messi, who seemed terrifyingly refreshed. She really did get off on this. 

“You go ahead of me, Gwen, you ran a lot.”

“No, you go on, Sab.” Gwen took her nasty, sweaty hair out of her bun once she was in the bathroom and stripped off. Sabina did the same and took the open shower waiting for her. Sabina was good to Gwen, no doubt, but she wasn’t going to say no when someone was trying to respect her. 

“I’ve been here a while and I’ve been around a lot of naked hippy people in my life, but I still get sorta weirded out at how blasé everyone is in here. Like when I was being a hippy, everyone still kind of cared, you know? Like being naked was an exciting fuck you to authority, or something.” Luka was beside Gwen now, getting her towel and wrapping it around herself. Gwen still quite liked Luka. She was sweet and mellow and Gwen saw herself a bit in her. She actually did like Rakitic too, but Rakitic was beautiful and could be a little high and mighty when it came to her moral high grounds. Luka was cute. That was the best way to put it. Cute and fun. 

“I think most of us gave up our dignity pretty fast in here. One of those little things that just doesn’t matter. We all think it does when we first come here, like our bodies are still our own.” Gwen laughed a bit. “Nothing is scintillating anymore when nobody cares.”

“True enough. Hey, you played—“

There was a pretty big scream from the halls, enough to make the whole bathroom turn, even with all the showers running. Gwen couldn’t see where she’d chucked her towel offhand, but grabbed her hoodie and pants and rammed them on, running out to the hall with Luka in her towel. There was a big crowd already, enough that she couldn’t see what was going on. All her friends were currently coming out of the showers in varying levels of undress and wetness, so there was no one she could really ask to see what was going on. A mass of guards were now holding back the crowd of girls, telling everyone to give some space. 

Gwen finally saw Kun in the crowd. Kun hadn’t been in the showers, obviously, and Messi would go to find her first, absolutely. Messi was already making her way to Kun to see what was going on, and Gwen followed to eavesdrop. 

“Babe, what the fuck is going on?”

“There’s a dead body in the janitor’s closet right there. Gomez just found it when she went to go restart her chores for the day. They just bundled her off to Zidane’s office because she’s in a panic. I…I think the body is Ozil.”

Messi raised her eyebrows in shock. “Holy fuck.”

Gwen felt very shocked as well. She turned for the safety of Sabina, but Sabina wasn’t there. Luka’s mouth was hanging open as well. 

“Holy shit, do you think it’s because of what’s been going on?”

“I…I mean probably. Oh my god.”

A voice that Gwen couldn’t locate deep in the crowd vocalized what everyone was already silently thinking. “Where’s ter Stegen or Roberto?”

“Roberto’s in the infirmary, you piece of shit!” Bartra screamed from the back of the crowd, wrapped up in her own towel. 

“Yeah? How do you know that?”

Bartra marched through the crowd in her towel and slapped the woman, hard, in the face. Things were degenerating fast, and now all the women were starting to yell. Mascherano pulled Bartra away, dragging her down the hall but taking her only as far as the doors of the bedrooms to chastise her. The rest of the guards were shoving everyone back, telling them to get to their bunks now. Sabina finally showed up out of the bathrooms, and Gwen felt relief. 

“There’s been a death, Sab, nobody knows what’s going on.”

“Let’s just get to our room, Gwen, not our problem, not our problem.”

~

Maria stared at the ceiling from her position flat on her back on her cot. There was a big stain on it. The stain was pretty well-etched in her head by now. It reminded her of the hills she used to climb in Mönchengladbach, a little bit. It was the best entertainment in the room. 

Maybe it was time to leave the cell. She’d been left long enough to go from stewing in her hurt, to just feeling bored. It’d taken long enough. Maria was surprised, very surprised at the visceral reaction she’d had to Ozil’s comments, but even more surprised at how long it’d taken this time for her heart to heal over it. She couldn’t exactly understand it on the face of it, but if she tried very hard, it made sense. She always felt like it was her fault, always her fault. Maria knew it wasn’t her fault in her head, she knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t her fault that she got raped. Rape, such a horrible word to consider, so horrible that Maria often tried to think of all the events in her life as something different, but that was the end of it. And for Ozil to reinforce what Maria’s heart always tried to scream, even if her brain told her it wasn’t her fault, well…

She probably would have killed Ozil, even if it’d been an accident. But now, Maria had stopped counting days and she smelled awful and she wanted back upstairs. There was a sink attached to the toilet in the cell, and she’d been given a washcloth, but a cold, plain washcloth to the key parts of her body wasn’t enough, and Maria realized she’d hardly been doing it anyway. There was no point and she didn’t remember. She did wet her hair down sometimes, but it was still abominably greasy and stringy now. A shower would feel nice. 

Maria intended to ask to come back up through the food slot when they brought the next meal, her only way of identifying what time it was by when the food was brought, and what was on the plate, but the door rattled, then opened all the way up. To Maria’s surprise, it was Enrique. He looked weary. No, he looked exhausted. 

“Ter Stegen.”

“Sir.”

“It’s time to come upstairs.”

“I was going to ask to come upstairs today.” Maria stood up, her muscles feeling weak. She often did get up and move around the cell, but it was often easier to sleep for long periods, and she wasn’t used to no physical activities. “I apologize if I smell bad.”

Enrique ignored this and led Maria back down the hall and up the stairs, back to humanity in a sense. He was dead silent, and Maria wondered why a guard hadn’t come to fetch her. At any rate, he seemed to sense her questions. 

“There’s been a death, ter Stegen, and it’s time to get everyone back to normal.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You won’t be.” Enrique led her down to the middle of the hall then turned off to his own office, shooing her off towards the recreation room. “Go have a shower and brush your teeth.”

What did that mean? Maria was going to take that shower, feeling grateful that Enrique was allowing her this privilege. But she’d find Ivana first. Ivana was always the first person she thought of waking up, and the last she thought of going to bed. Even if her days felt smothered with thoughts of awful things, she could always brighten them with Ivana. Ivana was a light. Ivana would be so worried, she was sure of it. 

The recreation room had other inmates in it, but everyone was quiet and stony. About the death, she understood. Everyone looked up at her, now with acute interest, and Maria felt her cheeks immediately burning. The attention she so badly had tried to avoid in prison had come to her, unfortunately. It was her fault. She was sure everyone had been reminded of her story, long since shoved away in the past. But that was life, she was still living and breathing inside this building, and not max, and she was determined to be grateful. She hated the eyes, certainly, but she’d lived with it before. 

“Shit, someone get Rakitic, her girlfriend’s finally out of the clink.” 

“She’s outside, I think.”

Some inmate ran off, someone that clearly knew all about her and Ivana, but someone Maria would never be able to name. Four years and she still couldn’t name three-quarters of the prison. 

When Ivana was brought into the room, she looked frozen for a second, before running over and practically tackling Maria in a hug. She backed off nearly as quickly as she started the hug, remembering that Maria never liked contact chucked at her unexpectedly, but still took Maria’s hands. 

“I’m sorry, I should have asked, I should have asked. You’re here, you’re back, Jesus, I was so worried Maria.”

“A hug when I’ve showered, Ivana. I’m okay.” Maria rubbed Ivana’s hands with her thumbs while she held them. 

“Was it awful?”

“Not as awful as you’d think. For me, though. You would hate it.” Maria smiled gently at Ivana, her whole body now soothed. “Ivana?”

“Yeah?”

“Who died?”

Ivana’s face changed to solemn. “I wanted to sit down with you before we talked about that.”

“Ivana, who?”

“I…Ozil was found dead in the janitor’s closet two days ago. They…they actually checked all the cameras down in solitary to make…to make sure you didn’t escape and do it. They don’t know if it was a murder, or if it was a suicide at the moment, but I know Enrique and Zidane are pretty desperate to shove the whole thing under the rug to avoid an investigation.”

Oh god. Maria felt in disbelief, a shock she didn’t know how to process. She’d been spared. If she hadn’t made the decision to stay in solitary, it would be over for her. She’d almost lost everything fighting Ozil, and had gotten lucky once. If she’d come up when she was still angry, and everyone knew she was angry, she would be done. Off to max, no questions asked, for Ozil’s death. Or worse. Years and years added on to her sentence. Maria felt her whole body try to give out, instead falling to her knees, sobs wracking themselves out of her body. 

~

“I don’t wanna go out there, Leo, I don’t. What if I hate them? What am I supposed to tell Zidane and Enrique after? What am I supposed to do?”

“Then you tell them it wasn’t a good match, baby. Take a deep breath. What would, ummmmmmmm, what would Valentina Rabia do? She’d go out there, right?”

Kun nodded a little bit. Leo was trying. It was nice that she did listen enough to remember the names of her characters. It still often felt that Leo wasn’t listening at all, but it was soothing to know that she was. 

“It feels weird to go out there. I never have guests. At least you do occasionally.” Kun scuffed her toe repetitively across the floor. The cheap rubber from the sole was leaving a little mark. “I feel really ashamed, you know? Like I’m going to have to sit there in front of these people and defend why I’m here.”

“I mean, tell them what you want. Come on, go on, or they’ll think you’re not going to show up.” Leo looked around for a moment before leaning in and giving Kun a small kiss, before giving her a small pat on the bum. “Go.”

Kun followed the trail of straggling women down to the visitation room. She didn’t know who exactly she was looking for, but she hoped the couple would go right for the pregnant inmate in the room. 

There wasn’t any guessing, really. There was a stiff, awkward looking couple, waiting at a table and looking around a little bit anxiously. Kun wondered if they’d been in a prison or not before. 

“Hey, you guys are Isabela and David, right?”

“Sabina Aguero, yes?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s me.” Kun reached to shake their hands first, even though she knew how sweaty and clammy her palms were. “You can call me Kun if you want.”

“Oh, um.”

Immediately, Kun felt her whole self feel defensive. They thought it was some gang nickname, she just knew it. She tried to smile anyways as she sat across from them. “It’s what I’ve gone by since I was just a little kid. It’s from an old kid’s show. Kinda different, I know.”

“Well, that’s quite interesting.” The wife, Isabela, seemed to be leading this conversation. “So, you’re…about eighteen weeks along?”

“Um, yeah.” Kun nodded. That’s what the doctors thought. It was really more like a month after that, which was probably going to be a problem later. 

“And it’s been going well?”

“Without a hitch. I’ve always been really healthy, I’m lucky that way. What…what do you guys do?”

Isabela still wasn’t giving her husband a chance to talk. “David is a personal mortgage consultant, and I currently stay at home, although I am trained to do music therapy. I stay at home because we have two other younger foster kids at the moment. David and I have taken in over forty foster children. We have one child of our own, a grown son.”

“Wow.” Kun was trying hard to stay as calm and pleasant as possible. She felt like crying, a lot, even though nothing had happened. Nothing at all. They sounded like stable people, and yet, Kun wanted to run away from them.

“And this is your first child?”

“It is, yeah. I, I wasn’t…I didn’t mean to…”

“We’ve been told about your circumstances, and we’re very sorry.” David finally spoke up. “You don’t need to go into it, we understand this is very sensitive.”

“I…I just want you to know that I’m not some dreadful person. I didn’t commit a heinous crime or anything. I’m not a drug user either, never have been. I don’t think I need like, social rehabilitation, or anything. I was a regular girl, I’m an artist and an author and a big fan of designing and making things like costumes and I made a mistake. I tell you because I…I want to have my child back, once I’m out, I know it’ll be a bit of a long haul to do so but I don’t want us to be unclear on the details. I don’t want my baby like, being adopted into a family, your family, or anything like that. A foster home to take care of it until I’m able to.”

“Look, Kun.” Isabela leaned in across the table and took Kun’s hands, rubbing her thumb soothingly over a spot over and over. “We’ll take good care of your baby for you until you can, if you’ll let us. Will you let us?”

Kun considered running out of the chair, down the hall into Enrique’s room, to beg to be sent to the prison that allowed children. But it wasn’t right, she knew it wasn’t right. Babies needed their mamas, but not in here. The baby would never be properly cared for in prison the way a good home could, never. 

“Yes.”

~

~A few hours out of San Diego, six years earlier~

“You want more General Tso’s chicken, Kun?” Peter gestured the takeaway carton to Kun.

“No. I’m just going to finish my rice. I’m a little sick of Chinese food.” Kun put her plate on the carpet, where she was sitting cross-legged. 

“Are you just going to finish sewing the coat, then, today?” 

“Uh, yeah, I think so. I really want it to be ready for the next photoshoot I’ve got planned.” Kun smiled through her greasy Chinese food. The coat was going to be a really awesome piece. She’d been cosplaying Sokka from The Last Airbender for a couple years now, but she’d yet to do his winter outfit. It seemed a never-ending task working on the costumes, but they were at a point where she felt pretty proud of them. Peter had gotten her a sewing machine so she didn’t have to sloppily do it by hand, which was nice. 

Really, that was about all he’d done for her though. Kun was still trying to connect with other artists and cosplayers and show them her work, which Peter had translated the first few chapters of into English for her, but nobody really seemed to care. Most said they were struggling artists themselves and couldn’t do much to help her. 

But he hadn’t done anything else. He’d said he knew all these publishers and stuff, and he kept saying he’d do it, but he put it off. Kun tried to not pressure him too much, because he let her live with him for free, but it was getting frustrating as all hell. Any time she did ask he’d bark at her a little bit that he’d get it done and she was stressing him out, so she didn’t often mention it anymore. 

“I think I’m done. I’ll just be sewing.”

“I’ve got a World of Warcraft raid at nine, so I’ll join you in the office in awhile.” Peter flicked on the TV. Of course he had a raid. Kun knew it was stupid to think it, because it was his office they kept the sewing machine in, but she wished she got more of an opportunity for privacy. Maybe they could move the sewing machine into her room, or something. She doubted it, though. She knew he liked the company. Kun knew he was a lonely, lonely man. They didn’t have sex often and Kun would not remotely consider him anything like a boyfriend, but she gave in occasionally and fucked him, usually when she was trying to twist his arm about going to someone in the publishing game. Weirdly enough, he didn’t ask though. It was like he wanted her around for the companionship, a curious, permanent freeloading roommate. 

“Okay see you in a little while.”

“Maybe practice your English with some tapes while you’re in there.” Peter interjected as Kun took her plate into the kitchen. 

“Mmmm, yeah, maybe.” Kun nodded and headed off to the office. Yeah right. English was bullshit and hard to learn, and at this point, it barely mattered anyway. 

~

“Sabina, can you hand me the wrench? Hey, Sabina?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Sabina shook her head a bit and handed the wrench over to Gwen. She knew she was in a daze, a stupid fog that wasn’t going away. Gwen was watching her, quietly tinkering with her own project with the wrench, her eyebrow furrowed in concern. 

“What?” Sabina felt herself snap, before immediately feeling guilty. “Hey, Gwen honey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay. You’ve not seemed yourself since the game, is all, just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” Sabina nodded resolutely and rubbed Gwen’s shoulder before turning back to her own task. Their job over in electrics was a curious one. The idea was, they could get an electrician’s diploma if they were around for long enough in prison, enough to get them a leg up at finding an apprenticeship after they were let out. Really, they weren’t doing labour like the rest of the women, but taking classes, in a sense, although women were sent out into the prison to deal with things like breaker issues and small electronics that had stopped working. As well, due to the nature of the program, which was meant to eventually be completed slowly, most of the women in electrics were there for the long haul. That meant women like Pique, Gwen, and herself. Pique usually dicked off in class and was an endless frustration for the instructor, before always being the first to figure it out and get it right. If she wanted to show off how fucking smart she was, so be it. 

“Alright, you can put away everything for the day, go get ready for dinner. Remember, we’re doing a count of EVERY tool, make sure they are all hung up in their NUMBERED POSITIONS, we don’t want to be searching for any.” 

The group groaned and hurried to get the tools away. The tools were basically weapons and they kept them very strictly contained, which always made Sabina laugh. The irony of putting most of the worst offenders in the prison in a class full of weapons. 

“You go ahead of me, okay, Gwen? I’ll meet you in the food lineup. Just gotta piss.” 

“Okay.” Gwen still looked slightly dubious that Sabina was okay, which she very much fucking wasn’t, but wandered off. Sabina was wracked with guilt over the death, guilt she had never experienced. But also an intense fear, which she did know. Those fears were quieting, slightly, as nobody seemed to be trying to conduct any investigations with any of the inmates over the death, but God, had she come too close. 

There was a loose end, though, and Sabina was curious. Stupidly curious, she was fully aware. The question of Giroud, and what his role was. Clearly, he was crooked, and a fucked up asshole, but to what extent? How was he handling the death? Most importantly, though, was the question of whether there were more drugs. Sabina didn’t have to take a piss at all, and found Giroud instead, waiting by the edge of the laundry room.

“Sir.” Sabina nodded, offering him more respect than he was ever due. “Crazy times, here, isn’t it? You must be shaken by the death.”

Giroud straightened his back and stared at her. “Yes, very shocking. We are all shaken.”

“I saw you speak many times with Ozil.”

“Inmate!”

“Oh, no, I don’t mean to insinuate anything about her…passing, nothing at all. A terrible tragedy. She’d been through so much, being attacked, and so on. It wears on a person.” Sabina felt a little stronger. If there was one thing she was good at, it was manipulating people. 

“Mmm, yes. I suppose so.”

“If you ever want to talk to me, about Ozil, then I’m all open ears. People have said I’m a very good listener, very understanding.” Sabina stared hard at Giroud. 

The man wasn’t an idiot. Sabina could read his face. He fucking got it. He knew what she meant. Sabina smiled slightly. 

“Get into the fucking dining room, Ramos.”

“Cursing isn’t allowed in prison, sir.” Sabina grinned slightly at him and turned on her heel, now ready to meet Gwen in the lineup. 

~

~Madrid, Spain, five years earlier~

“I’M NOT ONE TO FUCKING REPEAT MYSELF, YOU HORSE’S ASS. YOU FUCKED UP. THAT IS THE WRONG GUY. YOU FUCKING SENT ESTEBAN AND JULES TO THE WRONG GUY!” 

Sabina was screaming so hard in Nico’s face that spittle was all over him. Nico was cowering, lifting one hand up to cover the ear that Sabina was screeching in. She didn’t care. Fucking asshole idiot. There were enough Marco Rubio’s in this goddamn city, and you had to be extra sure you knew who you were going for. An incorrect assignment would open up a major murder investigation, with a risk of breaking open what Sabina did. Idiot, idiot, idiot, fucking idiot. 

“There’s still time, they’re only on their way. I think Jules might have his emergency cellphone. I can go, I’ll go do it, Ramos, I promise, there won’t be another mistake!”

“Stay fucking put here, don’t move until I come back. I’m going myself. Give me that fucking picture he sent you of Marco Rubio, the wrong one.”

Nico handed over the printed out image of the guy, blurry and from the side, but it would be good enough. Sabina stormed out of her office through the donair shop to the parking lot out back to her car. She’d have to speed, even though it was late in the evening and there would be lots of cops out looking for speeders or drunk drivers. But time was precious. They were headed to El Sol, where the idiots had deduced this Marco Rubio was going to be for the night. They’d be outside, waiting for the guy to leave or go out for a smoke, something. Sabina pulled up a couple blocks away and ran as fast as she could up to the club. It was busy outside, really the time that the bouncers started letting the lineups of over-dressed yuppies in. Sabina looked around a bit, before hitting the side of the alley. 

God, oh god, there was Esteban. He seemed to be trying to talk shit with some guy, probably the fake Marco Rubio. Where the fuck was Jules? They were going to probably clock him out and pull him to their car, but where was Jules?

“Sabina?”

Sabina jerked and turned behind her. It was Jules, the idiot holding a metal pipe blatantly in his free hand. Well, they were both getting fired. Sloppy, shitty work. A fucking juvenile could do what they were doing.

“Asshole.” Sabina hissed. “Go. Get. Estaban. And. Call. It. Off. Right. Now.”

“But…”

“I’m not getting into it.” Sabina continued to keep her voice low. “Drop that fucking pipe. Go say to Esteban that this guy isn’t worth your time. And leave. Do not return in my direction. Go the other way down the alley and never show your face to me again.”

Jules looked terrified, dropping the pipe into the soft dirt of the alley, which made a thud. Sabina hid along the front of the club while Jules scuttled down the alley. There was a bit of yelling, then quiet, and Sabina heard footsteps that eventually tapered off. They were gone. Sabina figured she should go check on the guy, so she swung around the corner and tapped a cigarette out of her pack of smokes, lighting it and taking a long drag. She was shaky herself, really, although she expected this guy was too. 

Marco Rubio seemed to stay in the middle of the alleyway, taking a few deep breaths, before starting to make his way up towards her.

“Hey man, you good?”

“This fucking goon started manhandling me for no fucking reason.” Marco Rubio spat in the dirt. 

“People are fucked up. Need a smoke?”

“Yeah, I think I could.”

Sabina handed over a cigarette and lit it for him, before leaning back against the wall. “City’s full of creeps. I’m Sabina, honey.”

“Marco. I hadn’t even gotten into the club yet, I was going to meet up with all my buddies inside, but I’m just going to fucking go home.”

“Sorry your night got ruined, man.” Sabina looked over the guy carefully. He was pretty handsome, actually. Tall, dark-haired, the usual for any basic attractive guy. He probable took economics in university. 

“Yeah. Well, anyway, thanks for the smoke. I appreciate it.”

Sabina didn’t really know what was coming over her, but she straightened up. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush she’d god. Maybe it was just his classic good looks. Maybe she felt a little sorry for him for what he’d been through. She didn’t know. “Hey, you want to make the night not a total waste? Sorry if that’s out of line, if you got a girlfriend or something.”

Marco paused for a minute. Sabina knew he still had adrenaline rushing through him too. He put out his cigarette against the wall, then leaned in and kissed her, putting both his hands on her hips and clutching tightly. 

“Take me home, I’ll make your night way better than some shitty club ever could, Marco.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta has a plan for Sabi, while Ramos has an offer for Giroud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope your day/night is going well. Enjoy this next installment!
> 
> As always, let me know if there's anything I can do different or you'd love to see!

~Barcelona, Spain, three years earlier~

“Pivot, pivot, pivot!” 

“Like that fucking old show, Friends! Carolina, no!”

“I’m getting this goddamn thing in my bedroom!” 

Marta pushed hard at the old dresser with the rest of the girls, tears of laughter streaming down her face like all of them. Bebé was being insistent that she wanted the fancy antique dresser from her old place in her new bedroom, and it was posing quite a challenge. Most of the rest of the house had been set up, although the place was still a massive mess, but the dresser was causing them grief and had been for ages. 

Well, Marta said grief, but it wasn’t. Nobody was unhappy, nobody at all. It was a great day, moving day. Into the big, old house they all could only dream of living in as a kid. Marta had learned the old place had six small bedrooms, which was unbelievable, as well as a den on the first floor that could totally be used as a bedroom. That meant seven girls, and rent got a hell of a lot cheaper when seven people were taking it on. Marta had put her name on the lease, and the idea was that she would technically sublet all of the other six rooms out to the girls and it would all be very tidy. When Marta had offered the idea, there’d be lots of girls who had been interested, but she’d chosen her five, plus Pierretta and herself, and it had been a done deal. There were already big plans on how to decorate it, who would be in charge of what, and how it was all going to work in terms of clients. The whole point was for it to be both a home and a safe place for everyone to host their clients, and Marta was still trying to work out the details in full, but she really wanted it to be professional, classy even. 

“HEEEYYYYYYY!” There was an uproarious cheer from everyone when the dresser finally wedged through the doorframe into the bedroom. 

“I told you all it would fit, and you all doubted me! Now I’ll have the perfect boudoir, and what’ll you lot have?” Bebé fell back onto her bare mattress, still laughing. 

“Right, that’s what these johns look at, the makeup dresser, girl!”

“Look, can we all agree that we need a drink after that?” Marta wiped her brow a bit and leaned against the doorframe. 

“Did someone get wine?” Pierretta got up from where she was laying melodramatically on the floor. 

“No, I got shit champagne! Isn’t that the way everyone celebrates moving into a new place?” Carolina immediately ran down the stairs to the kitchen. There were few boxes, as the girls had come to learn very few of them cooked on their own, Marta included. They’d have to start learning, really. But Carolina came back up the stairs with a box, shit champagne and cheap glasses and all, and popped the cork. More cheering. Marta felt warm inside. This is how girls like her ought to always be, looking out for each other. This felt right, and Marta knew that it would work. 

~

“Man, I can’t believe I missed that much. Nobody told me anything, honest.”

“It’s good that you didn’t know, I think. I think it’s good you forgot about the game too, you would have been sad knowing you missed it.” Marta sat cross-legged across from Sabi, while she sat on the ground and tried to finish her homework. Broke Marta’s heart, really. Sabi was still exhausted, emotionally and physically, from the withdrawal, which Marta knew could take longer than what the books said it would take, but the decision had been made that she should try and get back into a normal routine, which was her college credit classes. Sabi was trying, because she always tried, but Marta could see erratic, scribbled out marks all over the page. She wasn’t focusing. 

“I took a very long nap, apparently Doc was just sitting and reading some shitty formula novel next to me all afternoon.” Sabi laughed a little, although she didn’t look very happy. “All this sleeping I’ve been doing and look at the bags under my eyes. I’ll have to be borrowing some of your concealer soon.” 

“You can have a little if you want.” Marta had been thinking a lot about things to help Sabi, but it had been difficult. Enrique had kept his promise and spared her, but that had been about the end of it. At the end of the day, Sabi was depressed, Sabi still felt too anxious to focus and the withdrawal was only exacerbating both those things. What she really needed was a damn counselor or psychiatrist, but God knew that no such fucking thing existed in prison. It was ridiculous. Marta could see how many of the women weren’t mentally healthy in here, and hadn’t been when they came. Geri needed a counselor, in her opinion, and even people she didn’t care for and didn’t associate with, like Kroos, clearly also needed someone to work out their issues with. 

“Boy, am I lucky I’m in here.” Sabi said it absently, moving onto the next question in her textbook, despite the one above it looking terribly unfinished. 

“What do you mean?” Marta watched Sabi’s face carefully. 

“Imagine if I was back in residence. Or worse, if I’d gotten out already. Hell, I don’t want to think about getting out, actually. I have no where to go. That was stupid. God, fuck.” Sabi was mumbling a little bit now about how she was stupid, because she’d made herself anxious. But she was right. Sabi’s folks still refused to hear from her, and really, she didn’t have anywhere to go. She’d be homeless when she was released, and honestly, she’d stay that way or end up back in jail. Marta felt a sharp pang of sorrow in her gut. It would be similar for herself. She’d have to go back to hooking, although she’d be a little older, a little less desirable. She’d have to start from the ground up again, try and hope she could find a place to stay. But she had friends. She had support. Sabi’s friends were young, trying to do their own degrees, and would probably be way too uncomfortable about taking in a schoolfriend who’d gone to prison. 

“Don’t think about it, honey.” Marta’s head was spinning a little bit. There had to be a way to get that girl help.

Then it dawned on Marta, within the muddled thoughts of Sabi’s support system compared to her own. It really did all have to do with being surrounded by people. Loneliness did people in, time and time again. Sabi had mentioned that her friends had drifted away from her in university. She’d gotten lonelier and lonelier. Marta considered whether she should call one of her friends, ask if they’d be willing to take in Sabi, but she had a better idea. 

“Hey Sab, you keep working, I’m going to go find Ivana or someone and see if she wants to play cards. You going to be okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Marta took Sabi’s hand and gave it a kiss, before getting up and marching down towards Enrique’s office. He’d be sitting around, doing God knows what. Marta knocked hard on the door. 

“It’s Bartra!”

There was a sound of a drawer being slammed and footsteps, before the gentle click of the lock. Enrique opened the door just a crack, looking grumpy. 

“Do you feel like you own the place, inmate? You ask if you want to talk to one of us.”

“We really need to talk now.”

Enrique looked grumpier, but held the door open for Marta to come in. It was a curious power struggle they were having. Marta could snitch on him, but he could send Sabi away. Either way, he seemed to be yielding a little. 

“What do you want now?”

“I want Sabi to be moved to a group home.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. I want her to be given parole and I want her to be sent to a group home for recovering addicts.”

“Inmate! You do not get to just march in here, you do not get to bark orders at me, ever!”

“What do you want from me? What do you need from me? You can fuck me however you want, I can suck your dick, you can do whatever you want with my body. It’s all I have to give you, it’s all I have but you can take it.” Marta felt her whole body shaking, and she knew she was crying. She didn’t want to cry, she didn’t want to be weak. 

Enrique was staring, shocked. “Why do you care so much about her?”

“Because…because…” Marta tried to take a deep breath. “I’ve been that kid making bad choices. You think you end up in my line of work for a laugh? Because it’s your passion? My story is written. She still has a chance.”

Enrique’s voice softened. “Bartra. You’re young too. Your story isn’t finished.”

“But it is. I’ll get out of here, and I’ll go back to hooking, until my looks fade, then I’ll disappear from existence. I don’t want her to disappear.”

“Bartra. I’ll look into group homes.”

Marta stared at Enrique through her tears. “And what can I give you?”

“Nothing. Your…your stubbornness in protecting her astounds me. And I respect it. Contrary to what you all might think in here, we’re not all overlords, wicked to our core. Bartra, calm down, for God’s sake, take a tissue.” Enrique handed one over. 

Marta tried to mop up her eyes and nose. “Thank you.”

“Get out of here and go clean yourself up, okay?”

~

~Madrid, Spain, five years earlier~

Sabina was late, very late. She was aware of how late she was, but she couldn’t walk fast anymore these days. She only waddled. She looked fucking ridiculous. This wasn’t going to look good. Rarely did she go right to the top with her grievances within the gang. After all, she was a fringe member of it, an entity that existed almost on her own. She knew that the gang didn’t prefer the term gang and preferred something more like “family,” but she wasn’t getting into it. They were what they were. But regardless, she’d called for the audience and yet she was going to be late. She’d never actually met their head guy, the “father,” or whatever they liked to call him, but she’d asked for his presence. 

It was being held in a private room at some stupid ass club that prided itself on its fucking exclusivity or something. Sabina hated shit like this. She was constantly reminded of how strange and almost cliché the life they lived was. Sabina didn’t mind that she only flitted around the edge of them, there was something so fucking irritating about all of their politics. 

Sabina could already hear voices, angry voices when she huffed and puffed up the stairs to the private room. This place had crystal chandeliers. This wasn’t necessary for a meeting with someone they contracted to do hit work. 

“You said he was going to be here!”

“Ramos’ll be here, you have my guarantee!”

“Don’t fucking waste our time.”

Sabina wavered for a minute outside the door. Well. She could hear Sauli, who was still basically her only contact. Angry voices all assaulting him. Sabina felt a slight feeling of vindication, that they thought she was a man. Assholes. Of course they did. She’d show them. 

In fact, she should go in before Sauli had to suffer a minute more. The guy tried to please, Sabina knew. Well, he’d liked her enough that he wanted to keep her around, even as a kid. He was a pushover. Sabina took hold of the door handle and flung it open, staring hard at the table of middle-aged men, all trying too hard to dress stylishly with how they thought young men dressed. 

Sauli was cowering in the corner. “Ramos is here.”

Sabina kept staring at them. They were uncomfortable. Of course they were. There was not a single woman in the room, and if there had been, she wouldn’t be thirty-seven weeks pregnant. Sabina put her hand on her hip and took a deep breath, hoping she didn’t look sweaty. 

“Do you need a seat, ma’am?” One of the suited men got up to pull a seat out. 

“What am I, your abuela?” Sabina went over and took the seat anyway. Her doctors said that she shouldn’t be exercising too much at this stage, but it was hard not to be active. She needed to be these days, it seemed. There was always mistakes, always something going wrong that she was having to clean up amongst her stupid staff, if that was even what she could call them. Sabina knew her strength was waning, greatly. It should be going towards the baby, but she needed to protect it, and thus, she had to work hard to keep things organized. 

The baby had been a funny curveball chucked at her life that she wasn’t expecting. Sabina wasn’t entirely sure how she felt. Maybe she shouldn’t have fucked Marco Rubio that night. She probably shouldn’t have. Sabina didn’t think she’d ever be fit to be a mother. She was harsh and angry, she knew she was. She wasn’t an idiot. But there was something that told her to keep it, in a funny sense. Like all those events that night had transpired for a reason. Sabina supposed she considered herself a religious person, although she doubted God agreed. But maybe, just maybe, God was telling her something by making her pregnant. 

Whatever the case was, Sabina had told Marco. She wasn’t the sort to dick around with shit like that. He had a right to know. Sabina had told him that he wasn’t obligated to do shit about the baby, because honestly, she’d rather not have some lazy baby daddy making her life worse and more frustrating, but he’d been kinder than she was expecting. They weren’t compatible and they both knew off the bat how stupid it would be to try and remain in a relationship, but Sabina was impressed with his efforts to try and text to see how she was feeling, to come to doctor’s appointments, and the like. It was like he really did want to be a dad. Sabina felt a bit guilty. He didn’t know shit-all about her life, nothing about what she did for a living. It was best he didn’t know, but it still made her feel shitty. He was a good guy.

“You said you needed a meeting with us?” A man at the head of the table spoke. He was dressed a little more conservatively, a trim grey suit to match his trimmed, greying hair. 

“You the main guy?” Sabina spoke sharply. She wasn’t afraid of any of them. 

“My name is Platini, yes.”

“Sabina Ramos, mate. I’ve been doing a lot of work for you lot for a few years now. I’ll be honest, the guys being sent my way are getting worse and worse. Like they’re not being trained at all.”

“How does this remotely affect me, Ramos?”

“It does affect you. It affects your whole group. I perform a vital service, one that a lot of your goons like to take advantage of. And since I’m being subcontracted out by you lot, I think it’s safe to say that I’m owed some fucking useful workers since you get some of my money.”

Platini stared at Sabina. Sabina cocked one eyebrow back, staying silent. Sabina understood the moment was a farce. There she was, sloppy ponytail pushed back with a headband, wearing a massive t-shirt with some metal band on it because it was one of the only things she could find that fit over her stomach without making her look like some bland mum from the suburbs. She also looked grossly like a thug herself, the tattoos beginning to coat more and more of her hands and arms. It worked when she was impressing her clients, but damn, did it make her feel dirty now, surrounded by these suited men. Sauli had tattoos too, lots of them, and he was a low-level piece of garbage in their eyes. 

“You come here and waste our time…”

“I was not the one who told you to throw a little circle-jerk party in the club. I could have just come to you and we could have worked this out like men. But that’s not how it works in groups like this, now does it?”

Platini stood up. “You think you have the RIGHT to ask for my presence!”

“I sure as fuck do!” Sabina also stood up, putting her hands on the table to support herself from toppling forward. “It reflects on YOU if hitjobs don’t get done right. It affects YOUR group when police start knocking on their door!”

“NOBODY here is responsible for what you’ve set up for yourself! It’s your business!”

“RIGHT. SO IF I WASN’T THERE STAGE-MANAGING YOUR FUCKING CREW OF MISFITS, WHERE WOULD YOU BE?” Sabina slammed a fist down on the table, then doubled over a bit. Shit. There was a horrible feeling in her lower regions, a pop. Then it was wet, very wet. Sabina looked down in horror, suddenly feeling like she had to sit down. She couldn’t. The stupid velvet seats of the chair would be ruined. The outside of her pants didn’t look wet, but she imagined they would soon. 

“I…”

Sabina suddenly felt a hand on her back. It was Sauli. 

“Hey Ramos, you alright?”

“I think my water broke. I feel like I’m living in a goddamn movie.”

There were suddenly other men getting up to make sure she was alright to stand at her feet. Platini sat back down, but said nothing. 

“I’m good, I’m good, alright? Let go.”

“We should get you to a hospital.”

“You want to drive me, fine, but stop touching me.” Sabina reached for her phone. Her troubles of shitty hitmen suddenly seemed terribly unimportant. She’d call Marco. He’d be devastated if he didn’t know right away. 

~

“Okay, well, I’d really, really appreciate it if you could bring him, okay, Marco? Remember what a good time we all had last family day?” Sabina tried to remain bright sounding over the phone. She’d wrapped her fingers all up in the twirly cord in stress, and her voice was probably too high-pitched, but the sunny tone was needed. 

“Yeah, maybe. Like maybe half a day or something.”

“There’s going to be lots of kids, lots of things to do like last time.” Sabina swallowed deeply. Only on family day and Mother’s Day were children allowed to spend all day with their mamas. They could cuddle and hug whenever too. They were usually pretty big deals, with the whole prison trying to throw little events and games for the kids to play. The little kids seemed to enjoy it, even though everything was makeshift. 

“Uh huh. Okay, talk to you later, Sabina.”

Sabina felt irritated. She was being dismissed. “Okay, bye. Tell Sergio I love him so much.”

“Yup.” Marco hung up curtly, and Sabina took a deep breath. That didn’t go very well. She absolutely hated capitulating to that man, it made her feel worse than dirt, but there was nothing else she could do. She was utterly, utterly powerless to that stupid man. Sabina always knew her temper flared extra-badly after every call she made to him, the type of anger that made her hit people, but she tried to take another deep breath to think clearly. She couldn’t hit anybody, not this week. She was sure Pique’s smug face was probably due for a bruise, but she couldn’t. Instead, she’d get her energy out other ways. 

Namely, breaking down Giroud. Sabina had decided by now that nobody was going to look any closer into the death of Ozil, and she didn’t think Giroud suspected her for a second, but she desperately wanted to know more about this snake guarding them. A snake so handsome that he’d wooed over all the younger inmates. 

She knew he was on shift, but he didn’t seem to be wandering around anywhere. Sabina caught hold of a startled older woman, one of the limp inmates that nobody gave a shit about. She looked terrified. 

“You know where Giroud is?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably outside smoking like he normally is.”

Sabina stared at the old lady. Smoking wasn’t allowed on the property. Well, obviously. How did she know that Giroud smoked and Sabina had never heard a word about it?

“Yeah, okay, thanks.” Sabina considered throwing out that she owed the woman one, but that was stupid. Never give out favours. Sabina marched outside, swinging around the building until she spotted him. There he was, puffing on a cigarette outside the loading dock to the kitchen. Jesus. Why was he around the fucking kitchen so much? Actually, scratch that. She knew why. That’s where the fucking heroin would have been coming from. The loading dock where supplies came in. 

“Hey Frenchie.” Sabina said it loudly enough to startle him. “Toss me one of those cigs.”

Giroud paused for a second, then handed one over and lit it for her. Sabina took a long drag, savouring it. She hadn’t had a cigarette in so long and it was fucking delicious. That was one of the worst parts of prison that nobody told you about, having to quit smoking cold turkey. 

“What do you want, Ramos?”

“I want to know what’s left. Is there any left?”

“And why would it matter to you?”

“Just tell me what’s left.”

Giroud looked irritated. “There’s lots more coming. I’d struck a deal. And now everything’s been fucked up.”

“Why here though? You’re not going to get money out of these ladies. It’s just fucking malicious.”

Giroud said nothing. Sabina changed tactics. 

“You’re just, not going to get anything out of the women here. It’s stupid. You know what you get? More Sabi Robertos. There is nothing better. You’ve wasted your time, you’ve wasted your money. Look, you want it out? I can get it out for you, cheaply. Sell it to real buyers. And once all your deal is done, nobody says another word.”

Giroud continued to stay silent. 

“What do you say, Frenchie?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.”

“I do.”

“Then I guess I haven’t any other options than to say deal.”

~

~Ibagué, Colombia, nine years earlier~

“What if it doesn’t go right? What if something happens?”

“Look, it won’t. This guy’s the best, the very best.”

Jamie felt like she could barely breathe. Her whole chest was completely constricted, and the little waiting room, too small and a little dark, was making everything even more suffocating. 

Camila kept talking. Jamie thought she was vapid as shit. But the incessant talking was helping, just a little. If she’d been sitting here in silence, it’d probably be much worse. 

Jamie wished, though, that she wasn’t friends with Camila. She wished she wasn’t friends with any of her current friends. They all did things she didn’t like, they liked to smoke too much weed and go out late at night and generally do things Jamie shied away from. But nobody else fucking liked her. It was awful. Jamie knew she wasn’t the most outgoing person, but she expected that she would have found herself in a circle of bookish people like her. But the bookish people hated her. The sports friends she’d had when she was little hated her too. She’d quit judo last year, which had hurt. She’d liked it, she really had. But it wasn’t fun when you weren’t wanted. It was curious, though, the people considered most popular in school didn’t exactly care for her either, but they were a little more forgiving. Perhaps because the partiers were sometimes friends with more popular folks, they thought she was okay. 

Lord knew why the partiers liked her. Jamie was suspicious it was because she’d become very pretty, and she damn well knew she was, but she wasn’t outgoing enough to just be popular. Anyway, some of them had sorted her into their group in the hopes that her beauty would make her a slut, and then she’d just stayed around. The girls liked her enough, but then, it was probably because Jamie would just listen endlessly to all their drama and say little, allowing them to take the spotlight. 

As for the boys, they liked her for a very different reason, and Jamie felt sick about it. She usually acted cool and unaffected around them, but she’d still fucked up. It’d been one of their stupid parties, the sort that Jamie usually tucked herself in a corner for the duration of, with her drunken friends flitting by, often to unload some sob story about their boyfriends. But she’d let one of them do it, the horrible thing that every talked about incessantly. Jamie didn’t know why she’d let a boy lead her upstairs, take off her pants and touch her, do what she knew God would be shouting at her for, but she had. She’d been a little drunk. She’d been a little sad. But not enough to really justify why she’d let him fuck her. 

And now she was with the dunce Camila, who promised this guy knew how to do abortions safely. The guilt was only compounding. She knew she’d not get caught, probably, unless something went wrong, but if it did…fuck. She would be put in prison, probably, even though she was just a kid. 

It bothered her to know that Camila had gotten abortions already, a sure sign that their lifestyle was not leading to anything particularly glowing. And Jamie had just fucking done the same thing. Unreal. 

“Jamie?”

It was the guy himself. There were no nurses or anything, but of course there weren’t. This was an illegal place, run out of this guy’s house, the makeshift waiting room a sad looking place. 

“Go on,” urged Camila. “He’s good, promise.”

Jamie got up, feeling weak. Camila had promised many things about this guy. He’d used to be a doctor before getting sick of how abortions were only allowed in emergencies. He had all the right equipment. He was a true hero for the poor. Many many things. 

“You can call me Nicolas. Try not to worry, okay? Stress and tension makes this harder.”

“I’m only fifteen.” Jamie felt herself burst into tears as he guided her into the procedure room. 

“And that’s why we’re here, right?” Nicolas spoke calmly and with authority. Jamie wished she had a last name for him. She’d rather call him that, give him a sign of respect. He was middle-aged and felt fatherly. 

“I made such a mistake. I don’t want a baby.” Jamie kept crying. She usually wasn’t the biggest crier, but she’d cried a lot recently, even before she knew for certain there was a baby in her. Maybe it was the hormones. 

“Hey now, you made a tough decision. But now you’re going to have a chance to restart, right? It’s a tough decision, but I think it’s the right one. If you had a baby, you’d be a child raising a child. And I promise you, I do this so girls like you have better opportunities out there.”

Jamie nodded, looking around the room, even though tears were still falling. It looks clean, at least. 

“How do you do it?”

“I’m going to give you some pain medication, then I’ll use a vacuum meant for removing this sort of tissue. It’s quick. You’ll cramp and maybe bleed for the next little while, but there should be nothing else. I’ve done many.”

Jamie trusted him. She did. She was still scared as shit, but it had to be done. Her parents would be so fucking angry if they found out. She’d be a laughing stock at school. As it stood, Camila’s fat mouth might have whispered it far and wide within her group and it could spread, but it was better to get the abortion than be the one who left school because she was pregnant. She crawled up on the table, resolute in her decision even though her body was still betraying her with tears.

“You just need my bottoms off?”

“That’s fine, I’ll have a sheet to put over you. Miss Jamie?”

“Uh huh?”

“Can you promise me you’ll be safer next time? I want to hear that you’ve gone and done great things.”

“I promise, I promise.” Jamie really meant it. She’d get out of this stupid friend group, even if it meant she’d be friendless. They weren’t good for her. 

~

“Fuck, fuck, baby, yeah, right there, fuck.” Jamie whined mercilessly in Cristiana’s ear, knowing how much it turned her on. Jamie always knew she was noisy when she fucked, but honestly, if sex was actually good, you should make noise. Sex should make you want to cry out, so Jamie was glad that Cristiana made her feel those things. 

They’d made up properly soon after the football game, and Jamie knew Cristiana truly was sorry. They’d kissed and snuggled but they’d not had sex again until now, a few weeks later. Jamie loved it like this, though. They’d found their favourite spot to fuck, a bench wide enough for them on the inside of the one, sad and forgotten wheelchair-accessible shower stall that had stopped working long before Jamie had even come to prison. Jamie had forgotten ever needed penetration to have good sex, because rubbing clits was honestly unreal and amazing, especially as they both got increasingly wet. There was something super intimate about the action, too, more so than getting fucked by a dude, at least in her experience. 

Cristiana was pulling Jamie down to make out with her as they worked their bodies back and forth, making little breathy noises. Jamie was happy to oblige and wrap her tongue up with Cristiana’s own. Maybe it was good to fight now and then. Maybe fighting lead to better sex after you’d made up. Or maybe just not getting it for awhile had made them both lusty as shit. 

“Hey, inmates! What the hell are you doing!” 

“Shit!” Jamie scrambled off Cristiana, who was similarly immediately panicking and looking for her bottoms. It was Sanchez. He’d flung open the door to the wheelchair stall and was looking at them like they’d both grown three heads. Cristiana immediately burst into tears, which Jamie was expecting. They were both beat red from embarrassment, but Jamie knew Cristiana would be a drama queen about it. 

“Why did you come into the women’s washroom with no provocation, you pervert!” Jamie snapped as she shoved her pants back on, knowing she was pushing it. 

“That’s none of your concern, inmate! You know intercourse is forbidden!”

“I’m sorry!” Cristiana was still crying, wasting time getting her own pants back on. 

“Both of you, come here, get over here!”

Cristiana lurched over to Sanchez’s side as soon as she was dressed, and Jamie sighed heavily. She was scared of real punishment. She’d never experienced it in here. Jamie didn’t think she truly had either, past a few citations, but even that scared Cristiana. It wasn’t the end of the world to Jamie, to be honest, although she hated seeing Cristiana so upset. It was just a punishment in a place that didn’t matter. But being good mattered so much to Cristiana. Jamie went to Sanchez’s other side after, and he began to frog-march them down the hall to Zidane’s office. 

“Nasty perverts yourself, I guess. Makes sense. You both dress and act like whorey little pieces of trash. Just what will Zidane have to say.”

“Get OVER yourself with that homophobic shit,” Jamie hissed. “You know how many of us date each other.”

“INMATE.” Sanchez yelled, stopping them both in the hall. “You REALLY want to talk back to me when you’re already about to be in trouble?”

Jamie felt herself shaking with anger. Cristiana looked shocked at seeing her like this. Jamie knew she was normally quiet, bound to her books and puzzles. But just because that was who she was normally, didn’t mean she hadn’t grown a harshness over the years that she could bring out from deep in her core. 

“I goddamn will! Yeah, fucking discipline us! But you do NOT get to tell us that we’re whores, because we try to look nice, or own a pair of breasts! You do not get to tell us we’re whores or perverts for reaching out when we’re lonely!”

“Jamie, just stop!” Cristiana was getting even more upset, her makeup absolutely destroyed by now. Jamie tried to shut her mouth, her body still shaking all over.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana and Jamie inadvertently cause an upset in the prison right before Family Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Hope you are all well. I had a fun time writing this chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 
> 
> Let me know if there's anything you're particularly enjoying, or want more of!

~Gregorio Marañón Hospital, Madrid, Spain, four years earlier~

“Just hang in there for me, Sabina, baby’s starting to crown! Deep breath and let it out, that’s it, honey.”

Sabina tried hard to take the deep breath, releasing another clenched scream when she breathed out. “FUCK FUCK FUCK, just get OUT already!”

“Baby’s coming, I promise!” The nurse was happily avoiding all of Sabina’s endless curse words, which were sometimes directed at her, but then Sabina imagined it was part of the job and the nurse was used to it. Sabina had decided as soon as the first proper contraction had hit, hours earlier, that she was never going to have a baby again and she was unsure whether this little beast was going to be worth all this, but it had to come out one way or another. 

“FUCK!” Sabina roared again. Marco was looking on, overwhelmed and unsure of where to be in the room. He could do what he wanted. He hadn’t come for a few hours, although he’d called a few times to check how she was doing in the early parts of labour. He was here now, though, and had been for a majority of the labour, and Sabina had to toss him some respect. He had been incredibly irritating, saying he wanted his mom to come visit them, and he couldn’t wait to call everyone, and endless stream of natter, but she couldn’t find it in herself to direct her anger at the contractions at him. She wanted to yell and scream at him that this was half his fault, but he was being so goddamn happy about becoming a dad that she couldn’t. 

“Give us one more, Sabina, baby is really coming now!” The cheery nurse rubbed the inside of Sabina’s thigh with her free hand, her second hand cradling the top of baby’s head that was peeking out. Sabina clawed the side of the bedrail and let out a blood-curdling scream, but she tried hard to push. She was refusing to give up and let this baby beat her. 

“Sabina, good girl! Look at that, here baby comes! A boy, Sabina! Where’s papa? You have a son!”

The nurse kept talking, and Sabina layed back onto the bed, her whole body collapsing into exhaustion. Marco was telling her something now too, but she didn’t hear it. 

What she did hear, was the thin, tinny cry from the end of the bed. Sabina had been so tired that she hadn’t even looked down to see what had come out of her. The nurse said a boy, and there he was, kicking up a fuss like he was supposed to. 

“Where is he?” Sabina mumbled, finding it difficult to raise her head. 

“Right here, pet, here we go.” The nurse was now putting the tiny, messy looking thing on her chest, still covered in the towel she was using to wipe him off. Sabina’s eyes finally focused on him. 

He was so little. Sabina's stomach had been so big that it was surprising that he was so little. He was still crying, and Sabina felt something crack inside her. 

“Hey, hey, shhhh, little one. You’re here.” Sabina held him carefully to her chest. He still mewled, but was starting to quiet slightly. “Mama’s got you, okay?”

Marco put a hand on his tiny little head carefully. “What do you think, Sabina?”

“Very small.” Sabina wished she’d said something better, but those were the only words that her brain could form. He was more than just very small. He was this perfectly formed little thing. And Sabina knew two things: that she was going to do anything to keep the little guy safe, and that she already loved the shit out of him. Sabina felt herself start to cry, something she hadn’t done at all during the birth. In fact, Sabina knew exactly the last time she had cried. It was when she was holding Nando’s lifeless body in her arms, and now she had this tiny little new life. A curious circle. Sabina was confronted with death so much, but here this little thing was, screaming loud and clear how new and alive he was. Sabina let the tears fall. 

~

“Cris, a citation is not a big deal, it’s just a citation. You need like three anyway to get any real punishment.”

“I’m just so embarrassed too, you know? Like it’s so fucking embarrassing that I was caught, like…”

“Rubbing pussies with someone? I’ve never been caught doing that, but I do get it. You’ll get over it, though.” Gwen took a drink of her water. Cristiana wished she felt better. She’d felt so ashamed when Zidane had chastised them and given them both citations, then sent them both to separate sides of the prison to do chores for the day. He’d looked so disappointed in Cristiana, for some reason. Far more disappointed in her than he had been in Jamie. 

“Maybe. I just feel like, I’m not the sort of person who likes that stuff out in the air. I’ve always been so private about my relationships.”

Gwen made a sympathetic but slightly amused face and took Cristiana’s hand across the table. “Cris. Nothing’s private. Everyone loves to gossip about your guys.”

“Thanks.” That didn’t soothe Cristiana at all. 

There was the crackle from the PA system, which was usually not a good sign. It usually meant there was going to be a random bedroom search. Cristiana sighed. There’d been more bedroom searches since all the mess with the heroin. 

“Once breakfast is complete, all inmates are to return to their bedrooms. Please wait beside your bed.”

“What now?” Cristiana knew she sounded whiny.

“Don’t know. You almost done, girl?”

“Yeah.” Cristiana got up with Gwen and followed her to the bedrooms after they’d disposed of their trays. Gwen wandered off to Ramos to stand at the front of their own bedroom, giving her a little shoulder rub as she passed. Cristiana knew she had friends that cared about her, and thank God for Jamie, but she wished someone loved her in the same way Ramos loved Gwen. She’d never had someone who cared so much about her like they were blood, except her own mother and siblings. Not that she really wanted Ramos to be that person, but just, someone. 

“Inmates.” Zidane and Enrique stepped into the bedroom, which made everyone raise their eyebrows. Enrique carried a little clipboard, and they both looked strangely mischievous. 

“We have been alerted that there has been some behaviour that we deem inappropriate between inmates. As you know, we try our best to make sure everyone’s living environment is its safest and best, and thus, we do think it’s time for a change.”

There was a rustle from everyone. Cristiana felt eyes on her and Jamie, even though both were staring stalk-still with their heads turned towards Zidane and Enrique. Cristiana’s throat felt tight. This wasn’t good. Not fucking good at all. Zidane and Enrique were smirking so fucking much.

Enrique waved his clipboard over his head a little bit. “LISTEN UP INMATES. Bedrooms are being rearranged as of now. We will read out everyone’s new roommates and room number, but do not move until we have finished. We want a smooth and quick transition. Don’t argue. We’ve thought carefully about this decision.”

Now there was noise. Women immediately starting to argue despite being told not to. Cristiana felt her heart just fucking drop. She was no longer going to be Jamie’s roommate. But worse, literally nobody was going to be in their own space anymore, their own comfort zone. And it was all her and Jamie’s fault. Cristiana wanted to scream at Zidane, shout in his face that this wasn’t fair. That other women fucking had sex all the time and nothing happened to them.

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU BOTH!” Ramos snarled across the bedrooms to Jamie and Cristiana. Shit. Ramos and Gwen. They were getting moved. Cristiana knew they needed each other, and now she’d really fucked up. Cristiana wondered if they’d be ejected from the group. If Gwen would hate her now too. Fuck. 

“RAMOS!” Enrique snapped. “Language! Let’s do the honours of starting with you then, hm? Let’s see where you are on the list. Ah, there we are. Geraldine Pique. You’ll be in bedroom seventeen.”

More noises from the roommates, now some of them jeering at Ramos, and Pique, who was staring hard at the wall in front of her. Cristiana could see her fists were clenched, clenching so hard that she was afraid she’d hurt herself, but she stayed silent. 

After that, Enrique started rattling off names, and Cristiana just felt herself feel sicker and sicker. The glares she and Jamie were receiving were getting worse and worse. 

“Jamie Rodriguez. Marcelo Vieira. Room six.”

Cristiana and Jamie still weren’t directly looking at her, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jamie exhale slowly. Cristiana could see how upset and embarrassed Jamie was, but she’d escaped. She’d gotten Mama Marcelo. Mama Marcelo would be a good, calm, clean roommate who wouldn’t pester her. 

“Gwyneth Bale. Luka Modric. Room twenty-two.”

That gave Cristiana another slight moment of relief. Gwen really liked Luka. She’d be absolutely no substitute for Ramos, but they would be okay. They would get on. Cristiana was begging internally for Gwen not to hate her, and this was probably the best way to keep them still friends. 

“Leona Messi. Neymar da Silva Santos. Room ten.”

That caused an outroar of laughter and jeers from the women, and Cristiana felt herself grow enraged. Everyone knew Little General Messi and Neymar fucked. Everyone. Zidane and Enrique would be stupid not to know that. They’d done it on purpose, they had to have. 

“How about that, Aguero?” Pepa heckled Aguero from across the room. Cristiana wished Pepa would stop. Aguero painted an awkward and sorry picture, her tummy jutting out while she tried to stare ahead and not cry. It was very obvious she was trying not to, and Cristiana felt like shit. 

“Sabina Aguero. Cristiana Ronaldo. Room twenty-nine.” 

Shit. Cristiana wanted to kick a wall. She’d caused this and they’d put her with one of the biggest casualties. Worse, They’d put her and Jamie all the way across the vast room from each other. Aguero was in the same boat. Neymar and Little General Messi were nearly as far away. Cristiana got the tight feeling in her chest again. They had targeted Aguero because she’d not taken them up on the suggestion of an abortion months ago. Now she wasted time, money, and resources for doctor’s appointments and supplements. 

Enrique finished his long list, then glanced at the prison guards behind him. “Make sure everyone gets settled in.” 

Cristiana numbly started to collect her things. She guessed everyone wanted their own sheets, so she started pulling all that off the bed first. They wanted fast. She’d dump everything in the sheet and carry it over that way. Quick. 

Jamie was pulling her stack of library books and puzzle books off her shelf and chucking them on the floor. She was doing it aggressively, but then, most of the women were moving sharply and angrily. 

“I’m sorry, Jamie.”

“It’s not your fucking fault, Cris.” Jamie spoke sharply too, but Cristiana knew it wasn’t directed at her. Just the situation. 

“You called me Cris.”

Jamie turned and looked puzzled. 

“Instead of Cristiana. Like a nickname, like Gwen does.”

“You’re a funny sort, Cristiana.” Jamie came over and gave Cristiana’s neck a rub. “Aguero’s a gentle girl. She’s loud, and you’re going to learn a lot about anime, but give her a chance.”

“You’re taking this well. How do you know all that, anyway?”

“I fucking hate this, Cristiana. But let’s try and make this painless for everyone else. I don’t want a hundred targets on my back. Anyway, I eat with her. Make her life easy, okay? Nobody wants to be in her position.”

Cristiana nodded, feeling teary as she hauled her sheet full of possessions down to room twenty-nine. The women currently living there gave her a horrible look while they finished packing up their possessions. Cristiana realized Aguero would be awhile, likely, as she’d taped dozens and dozens of little pictures all over her side of her old room. 

“Get fucked, cunt.” One of the women snapped as she marched out of her room, arms full of her belongings. The words stung worse than Cristiana was expecting. That was the only time someone had called her that word, and it felt so fucking malicious. 

“I get the right side.” Pique was standing in the middle of her new room, pointing hard at the bed on the right side. 

“Why the fuck does it matter, you goddamn mammoth?” Ramos had her hands on her waist, her pile of shit dumped on the ground in the middle of the room next to Pique’s.

“I want the right side. I sleep turned to my right. I want to be against the wall when I sleep.”

“Maybe you can learn to fucking sleep on your left and not be such a fucking neurotic bitch.”

Pique picked up her mass of belongings and dumped them all over the bed on the right side, then turned to watch Ramos’ expression. Ramos looked angry for a moment, then turned to the left bed. Cristiana stared in disbelief. It had clearly taken a lot of control, but Ramos had been the bigger person. 

“Ronaldo?”

Cristiana turned back to see Sabina Aguero, looking forlorn, a careful pile of drawings in her hand. 

“That’s me.”

“Can you help me carry half my stuff in?”

Cristiana would rather not. She was tired and cranky and just wanted to light herself on fire. But she remembered what Jamie had said. Make it easy for Aguero. This had to fucking suck bad. And it wouldn’t be easy hauling things around pregnant.

“Yeah, of course. Lead the way.”

~

“Roberto, I was meaning to speak to you for a moment, can I have you in my office?”

Sabi looked up from her game of cards with Ivana and Marta to see Enrique. Again. She was losing terribly, but that was okay. It was a good way to calm down after all the upset after breakfast. She didn’t actually have a new roommate, although she imagined she’d have one soon. There was an uneven number of inmates at the moment, and she’d been tucked into room one by herself at the front of the room. Sabi wasn’t entirely sure she liked being by herself, and she felt isolated. It was making her anxious, so the cards were good as a distraction. Marta had ended up with Maria, and Ivana with an older woman, a senior, really, that everyone called Lady Rosa. 

“Yeah, oh, okay.” Sabi tossed her cards down. “I’m out, I guess. Play the next round without me.”

“We’ll miss you.” Ivana called cheerily as she scooped up the cards to shuffle them back into the deck.

“What’s going on?” Sabi followed Enrique into his office. She hoped she hadn’t been any sort of catalyst for the room change. She thought it was mostly just because of Ronaldo and Rodriguez, but she’d caused problems recently, so it was hard to say. 

“It’s actually good news, Roberto. You must be wondering why we put you by yourself when choosing new roommates.”

“I didn’t really think about it, I thought it was all random.” Sabi squirmed. 

“We put the needs of the inmates first. We do want you all to be successful once you leave here. Therefore, we’re handing in your release to the parole board with a strong recommendation. It will go through. You have a room waiting at Palo de Rosa Group Home.”

Sabi could hardly move. She was in shock. She should have been put in max for having drugs on her person. Instead, they wanted to release her. 

“Palo de Rosa…?”

“It’s a group home for young people, aged eighteen to thirty. They help get young people back on their feet when dealing with substance abuse and mental health issues. It is like rehab, but gentler. You will have to follow certain rules, and most of the time you are out, care workers accompany you and others, but you will have had good practice with adhering to rules and regulation.”

“I’m…I’m just, I’m still…”

Enrique waited patiently, resting his chin on his hands. 

“I’m so grateful.” Sabi started to cry. Her brain was barely comprehending any of this, practically not functioning. She’d said only a little while ago that she was terrified of leaving prison, that she’d have nowhere to go. But now that she was being told that she was leaving and would have somewhere to go, Sabi suddenly desperately wanted out as fast as possible. Prison was terrible, it was hell. It was boring and stressful and sometimes scary. Nothing was nice to look at in prison and it sucked your soul too. 

“It’s for the best of everyone. I’ll call you back in tomorrow after I deliver the recommendation. You can go now, Roberto.”

Sabi got up and wandered out of the office, feeling both light but drained and weak. Every thought in her mind was jumbled as she made her way back to Marta and Ivana. Marta stood up when she saw Sabi still crying, but it couldn’t be helped. 

“Sabi, what’s going on? What did he say?”

“He…he said I’m being released soon. To a group home. I’m just in shock. Marta, I’m happy. I don’t even remember when I’ve felt happy just like this. Marta, oh, Marta, I’m getting out.”

“Oh my god.” Marta immediately pulled Sabi into a tight hug. “I’m so happy for you, angel, I’m so proud of you. You deserve it, you really deserve to get out of here. Oh god, this is amazing.”

“But I’m going to miss you so much, oh my god.”

Marta was pressing kisses on Sabi’s forehead and cheeks. “I’m not important right now. We’ll find ways to keep in contact. What matters is you’re getting out.”

“I’m just so…surprised, y’know?”

“Of course, it’s a shock, it’s really a shock.”

Ivana was coming in to hug Sabi in congratulations. She wondered if it’d hit her fully tonight in her new lone bedroom, or if she’d only feel the elation once it was time for her to go, but at the end of the day, none of that mattered. She was getting out.

~

“He did say maybe half a day. It’s possible he’s showing up for the afternoon.” Gwen sat close to Sabina, holding one of her hands with both of hers while they both waited on the table bench. 

“I know he did.” Sabina clung to the hand, feeling as needy and vulnerable as Gwen often was. “You know, you can go visit the other kids. Go have fun with them.”

“I don’t know the kids. Their Spanish is also pretty garbled if they’re really little, I’ll probably have trouble talking to them even if I did. But I’m not going anywhere, I’m staying here with you.”

“You don’t have to.” Sabina knew Gwen wouldn’t go, and she was grateful. Her whole body ached, it just fucking ached. She’d hyped herself up all week that maybe Marco would bring Sergio, if she was very nice. She’d behaved so fucking well. They’d put her with Geraldine fucking Pique to live with, and she’d walked away from fighting, so she wouldn’t ruin seeing Sergio on her end. But she’d gotten her hopes up in vain. She knew Marco wasn’t coming. He’d never wanted to bring Sergio for a full day and he wasn’t coming. One of the two days a year Sabina could hold and play with Sergio on her own all day. 

“Maybe, maybe, Sese, maybe it’s better for us to go somewhere else, not watch the visitor’s door. Go outside to the grounds where the games are, at least sit in the fresh air.”

“Just in case, Gwen.” Sabina still stared hard at the door, as if maybe they’d burst in and Sergio would come running into her arms. A stupid fantasy. 

“I don’t think I say enough how much I love you,” Gwen leaned in and kissed Sabina’s cheek. “You saved me in here. You cared for me like a mother but you’re also the bestest friend.”

Sabina nodded. She knew Gwen meant it all. She also knew Gwen was trying to make her feel better. Her presence was enough. 

The rest of the afternoon dragged on and on, and Sabina knew it was fucking useless. It wasn’t happening. Families started to drift home, leave just a little early so they wouldn’t hit traffic, and Sabina knew her vigil made her look pathetic. 

“I made you waste you whole day, Gwen. Whole fucking day. We sat in silence all day and it’s my fault.” Sabina got up, wishing she could take a chair to the grated window letting light in. Smash it all to bits and run away from the prison, take Sergio back to where he belonged. With her.

“It’s not wasted, Sese. I need you a lot. You’re allowed to need me.”

“I think I need to go to my room for a little while, okay? I’m not handling things right now, I don’t want to snap at you. You’ve been perfect.” Sabina backed away from Gwen. She hated when she snapped at Gwen by accident. And she’d do it at this rate. Gwen was making a concerned, fretful face, still on the bench.

“Are you really sure?”

“Go help clean up, go say bye to any of the kids left. You didn’t get to do your paper craft with them, go see how they turned out.”

Gwen looked hesitant for a minute, before getting up and nodding. Sabina walked to the bedrooms as quickly as she could, her heart turning from broken to stone during the walk. Marco could fucking die. His girlfriend could too. Whatever his excuse would be tomorrow would be pathetic. Because he was pathetic. He was a pathetic, spineless weasel.

Sabina stared at Pique’s side of the room when she stormed into their space. An image of FC Barcelona’s logo was on the wall. There were many pictures in tidy frames on her shelf. Photos of her and her parents. Photos of her and her hot girlfriend kissing each other on the cheek. Sabina felt her temper grow to enraged. Pique could die too. Sabina looked around. There was no guards in here. All of them were still outside with the rest of the ladies helping finish the day and clean up. Sabina got up and ripped the framed image of the FC Barcelona logo off the wall and flung it hard to the ground. She’d be fucking goddamned if she was living in a room with that on the wall. Fuck, that felt good. Sabina took hold of the bedding on Pique’s bed and started tearing it off the bed and flinging that to the ground too. Better. Her towels off the shelf went next. Her stupid photos. The book she was reading. Better, better, better. 

“What the FUCK are you doing?

Sabina turned around. Pique was standing at the front of the bedrooms. She was at a loss. She didn’t know what she was doing. 

“I decided I want the right side.” It was all Sabina could get out. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Pique stormed over and took Sabina by the collar. Sabina knew she deserved it. 

“Fucking hit me. Do it, Pique. Let’s settle this the best way we know how. You just spent all fucking day with your family, what do you have to lose?”

Pique considered this for a moment, then decided this was the best option and swung hard, hitting Sabina squarely in the eye. It hurt like shit, and it made Sabina back up into the bed. That was enough to get her going, and she hit Pique back, hard in the nose. There was that feeling she wanted. Pique was holding her nose, and Sabina realized she’d made it bleed. Good. Pique had probably given her a huge black eye anyway. 

“This isn’t about me, is it?” Pique sounded muffled from speaking into her hands to catch the blood. She wasn’t moving to attack her again, and Sabina blinked. Her voice had changed entirely. It wasn’t the loud, shrill but somehow deep voice she knew. It was calm. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s about your son. I’m sorry he didn’t come.”

Sabina felt weak for a moment, her legs trembling, before sitting down and leaning against the edge of the bed. Pique came and sat next to her on the floor, before leaning in to find one of her flung around maxi pads from her shelf, opening it, and holding it to her nose. 

“Why do we hate each other?” Pique still sounded so calm.

“Why? Because you’re spoiled and you get everything you want. You have literally no idea what it’s like to have hardship, none. You have people that fucking love you and are willing to spend time with you in here.”

“You’re right. I’m really privileged with money and love. You’re right. But privilege is a funny thing. You can be privileged in some aspects and oppressed in others, if that makes sense. I…I have had my fair share of anger at what the world handed me.”

“Like fucking how?”

“I’m obviously, really, really gay. And this is something I don’t really tell people, and maybe it’s stupid to tell you, because I can count on one hand how many people know, but I’m intersex. Do you know what that is?'

Sabina shrugged. She kinda did. She’d heard of it. 

“It’s like my sexual parts and hormones and things don’t all connect to one another that makes me fully have the sexual characteristics of a man or woman. It’s okay. I’ve learned there really isn’t a binary for that sort of stuff, but it’s something a lot of people don’t understand. I’ve been bullied fuck tons for it, for the fact that I’m six foot four, that I sound and look like a man most of the time, had people question me ever since I hit puberty. And I got angry, and I got violent, and I don’t know your life story but I think you did too regarding whatever you’ve been through. And this is going to sound crazy to you, but I see you and your beautiful son, and I’m jealous. I was going to work with kids. I will never do it now. I was going to adopt with Shaki. I will never be able to adopt. I fucking love kids.”

Sabina leaned her head back and nodded, staying quiet. That was a lot to think about.

“We gotta live together now, Ramos. Can we just, learn to at least, understand each other? Nobody’s saying we have to like each other because I don’t know if we ever will.”

“I think I can handle that. And hey, I won’t tell about your thing. Your secret. I’m a whole hell of a lot of things but I don’t tell secrets.”

“What are we going to tell the guards about our faces?” Pique leaned her head back too and laughed, still holding the maxi-pad to her nose. 

“Nothing. They ask, we say we fell, we tripped, we ran into something. Solidarity on this one, right?”

“Right.” Pique offered her arm out, and Sabina realized she was asking for a one-sided hug. That felt so foreign and weird, but Sabina leaned in to reciprocate, even if the hug was hesitant and quick. 

“We can be allies, at least. We’ve come from such different backgrounds, but in a lot of ways, you’re right. We’re not so different, you and me. Anyway, let’s stick it to Zidane and Enrique, give them the opposite of what they wanted out of us.”

~

~Gregorio Marañón Hospital, Madrid, Spain, four years earlier~

Sabina lay staring at the little cot next to her bed. Baby Boy Rubio Ramos. He was asleep right now, bundled up in a little yellow blanket. Sabina knew she should be sleeping. She’d not get sleep again for ages, at least not properly. But yet, she’d couldn’t take her eyes off his little body, even though it was the middle of the night. It was dark except for the glow of the bright moon coming in from the window, and the crack from under the door out into the hospital hall. 

“You need a name, little one. What can we name you?” Despite what her brain was telling her, which was to let baby rest and not bother him, Sabina pulled the baby out of his cot and stared at him hard, trying to suss out a name. He did wake up, but didn’t screw up his face to scream. He just looked a little puzzled and made scrunchy newborn faces. 

“If I named you Fernando that would be really weird. Although it’s a good name. Maybe we need something a little simpler, though. What sort of little fellow do you look like? You know, we don’t have to decide right now.” 

Baby smacked his mouth. Sabina pulled down her hospital gown. Maybe he wanted to eat. He didn’t understand it very well yet, but the nurses said he’d get the hang of it. 

“You know, little guy, I’m not totally sure I’m worthy of being your mama. I’ve done a lot of bad stuff. And you’d think it’d keep me awake at night, but it doesn’t. But maybe I’m just hardened. Can you soften me up, baby? God, look at me, already. It’s like I’m talking to myself. You don’t care about what I’m saying. You don’t know.”

Baby didn’t do anything but blink slowly. 

“I mean, I’m going to try for you, little guy, okay? I’ve always been aggressive, but maybe I can use that to protect you.” Sabina reached over on the little side table for her phone. Things were different now. Baby needed her, and Sabina would be fucking damned if she was going to put him in danger. 

“Sauli?”

“Oh, hey, shit, Ramos, that you?” Sauli picked up, even though it was the middle of the night. Sabina knew he’d be up. It was only about one-thirty in the morning. 

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Shit, you have that baby yet?”

“Yeah, I had him.” Sabina shifted her free arm to cradle him better. 

“How is he, then? Wow, congratulations.”

“He’s good. Sauli? Can you do something important for me? Tomorrow, come to the hospital. I’m going to give you a key. Go to my office, you know where. Take everything and destroy it. Fucking obliterate it. Burn it, shred it, I don’t care. Keep whatever furniture or knick-knacks that you want.”

“What?”

“I won’t be seeing you again, Sauli. My son and I will be moving.”

“Ramos, I…”

“Can I trust you to do this for me? You did a favour for me once long ago. But can I ask for one more?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll come by tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, Sauli.” Sabina hung up, putting her phone down and leaning in to give baby’s tiny head a kiss. She’d ask Marco tomorrow how he felt about the name Sergio.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana fights with her mother, while it is time for Sabi to say goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks for your patience! I've been busy, I moved for the summer and was getting settled into my old job again, then I wrote a one-shot and it exhausted me from writing a little. But here I am with the next installment!
> 
> I also finish another character's backstory today and have a couple lined up to finish in a few chapters or so, so enjoy that too! 
> 
> Let me know if you like it and if there's any direction you want me to take anything!

“Almost done?” Cristiana tapped her pencil against the edge of the table repetitively. She knew it was annoying. Little General Messi looked irritated, and Cristiana wondered if it would make her go faster to get out of there, or go slower to be even more annoying. 

“Yeah, give me a minute.” Messi had been short with her the entire lesson, and Cristiana admitted she’d been sharper back. Everyone was in a bad mood about the new bed arrangements, although Cristiana saw no reason why Messi should be upset. She got Neymar, she was set.

“It’s just, everyone’s guests are going to—“ 

“Yeah, your mom’s coming to visit, I know. Give me a minute.” Leo barked out this last part, then turned back to her page. 

Cristiana rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Everyone had been a bitch recently. Cristiana wanted to be angry with herself, but she honestly just wasn’t. Enrique, or Zidane, whoever made the decision, could go fuck himself with a cactus. Gwen had been chilly with Cristiana and Jamie, although she was starting to soften, and Ramos had been nightmarish. Even worse than she was expecting at being paired with Pique. Weirdly enough, her and Pique were polite enough to each other in the bedrooms, and even in the halls and at meals, but Ramos had reached new levels of bitch to Cristiana. Cristiana hadn’t spent nearly any time with her friends, except Jamie, but that was fleeting to avoid the wrath of the guards. It was miserable, fucking miserable. 

“Really took the fucking L on this one, didn’t you, Ronaldo?” Little General Messi said it quietly, shaking her head a little as her pencil scratched away. 

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“Put the claws away. You and your girlfriend, screwing up everyone’s beds.”

“It wasn’t my fault. Anyway, why should you complain? You have literally nothing to complain about.”

“Oh, you are very testy today. It’s not so simple, Ronaldo. You’ve got my girl, and you’ve seen how she’s been with the room change. You think I like dealing with that?”

Messi wasn’t wrong. Aguero wept constantly, to the point that Cristiana wanted to throttle her a little bit. It was ridiculous, because Cristiana knew how much of a crier she was herself, but Aguero was taking it next level. Curiously, Aguero was still leaving little pictures on Cristiana’s bed for her, but she supposed that was a coping mechanism, to draw and draw. 

“She’s feeling fat and ugly right now, and very, damaged goods. I had it all worked out, even if she was feeling like that, I gave them both the same attention. You’ve broken the balance I’d worked out. I’m going crazy.”

“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Jesus, Ronaldo. Yeah, they’re both my girls, but you’d be stupid if you didn’t realize Kun’s it. The one who’s going to be there for the long haul after we’re all out of here.”

Cristiana raised her eyebrows. “What about Neymar?”

“Neymar’s gay for the stay. Don’t get me wrong, she’s my girl. But she’s going to leave prison and find a nice boy and that’s going to be that. Kun…well…” Messi drifted off, looking thoughtful. “Go to the rest of the girls and see your mom. I’m done.”

“Yeah, okay. Bye.” Cristiana got up and hurried out to the corridor to meet up with the rest of the women waiting by the window. What Messi said was certainly unsettling, to say the very least. She’d said that Neymar was only gay in prison, but she always seemed so attached to Messi. Cristiana wondered if she was the same way. Or if Jamie was. She’d kind of come to the decision that she must be bisexual, but now she wasn’t so sure. Was it really just being in an enclosed space together that did this? Cristiana felt a bit strange and almost ill as she took her place at the plastic table to wait for her mother. At least she’d get to forget all that was now clouding her mind for a little while.

“Cristiana.” 

“Mama.” Cristiana got up and offered her arms for a hug, relieved that she’d finally arrived. Her mother was usually the first to arrive in the room, as she always tried to arrive early each week. She didn’t really hug back, though, instead of her usual big hug and kiss, which was strange, and Cristiana immediately knew something was wrong.

“Something off, mama? Did something happen at home? What’s the matter?” Cristiana sat back down in her plastic chair and waited. 

There was an awkward and dead length of silence while her mother said nothing, then put her hands, balled up together, on the table. “I received a call from your warden.”

“Excuse me? Why?” Cristiana felt sick. There was only one thing this could be about. But it didn’t make any sense. Why would Zidane go to her mother over a citation? Was that even allowed?

“He said he was very concerned. He said that you…that you were, you know, doing terrible things with another woman. Is that true? Cristiana?” Mama looked on the verge of tears, reaching in her pocket to see if a spare tissue was left rumpled in it. 

“I…mama, look, she was my roommate, she’s not a bad person, I…”

“So it’s true? Cristiana, why? You know it’s a sin, you’ve never expressed interest in any of that before. And I’ve told you, I tell you all the time, to stay away from people in there, because it’s not safe for you to get involved with these criminals!”

Cristiana felt a hurt she’d never felt from her mother before. She’d never thought about gay sex as a sin, even though she was always raised religiously. And she didn’t get it, she didn’t fucking get it. It was lonely and miserable and boring in here, she needed Jamie, and she needed her other friends. God, she even needed the grumpy people that kept her day interesting, like Little General Messi. 

“Mama, if you haven’t noticed, I’m a criminal like all the rest of them. It’s not fair, you don’t know them, and we need each other’s comfort. Jamie is not wicked or evil and I care about her.”

Cristiana’s mother started to cry, and Cristiana immediately started crying too. They were both tears of anger and hurt at the other, with no possible solution. Cristiana suddenly didn’t want to see her mother today, and she wanted to run to Zidane’s office and shout at him for telling her mother, ask why he would do something so horrible and fucking nasty. All she could do was get up now and push her chair in. 

“I can’t do this right now, mama, I had a horrible week and all I wanted to see was you. But it’s all ruined now and I just can’t be here right now.”

“Cristiana, wait!” Mama got up also, still crying. 

“You came to yell at me and make me feel like I’m a piece of shit, or going to hell, or something!”

One of the guards was starting to come over to intervene, and Cristiana tried to settle down and take a deep breath. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow, mama, okay? I can’t be here right now, please.”

Cristiana’s mother nodded, her face still crumpled and crying. “Tomorrow.”

~

~Funchal, Madeira, Portugal, 11 years earlier~

“CRISTIANA! TIME TO GET UP!”

This was the third time Mama was calling. Cristiana could hear her, and wanted to get up, if even to stop the yelling, but she just couldn’t. She’d been up late, but she’d never felt exhaustion exactly like this. She really did have to get up. She didn’t have school anymore and felt herself slipping into the bad habit of sleeping later and later, but she still had to get up early for her trip to church with her mother. It never changed. The monotony drived Cristiana a bit crazy, but she did it for her mother. 

All her friends had gone off to university this past year, or at least, more full-time work. Cristiana had felt afraid to, because then mama would be all alone. She always said she’d be fine, but Cristiana knew her mother. She’d taken care of her children for so long, and maybe it wasn’t fair that Cristiana was still there, asking to be fed and cared for, but somehow, she knew her mother just wasn’t the sort to be able to be alone. So she stayed. A funny obligation. She loved her mother more than anyone else in the world, despite knowing that staying was holding her back. 

Not that she really knew what to do with herself. She supposed she didn’t have to know now, but Cristiana knew all she did was stay home, try not to eat, and play with makeup. There was absolutely nothing that seemed interesting as a career path. 

“CRIS-TI-ANA.” Cristiana heard her mother come up the stairs and bang on her door, but she still couldn’t move. She felt very dizzy, too, although she was used to not eating until lunch, at the very least. She was aware that her mother had come closer, and yet, for some reason, she sounded farther away. 

“I’m…’m comin’, mama.” Cristiana managed to make out, although she wasn’t even close to making it out of the bed. There was a long pause, as her mother clearly heard there was no movement, before she opened the door. 

“Get OUT of bed, before we’re late for the service!”

Cristiana wanted to answer, but she couldn’t make any more noises. Her eyes felt heavier, and they wouldn’t open even when her mother shook her. A little part of her felt afraid, as to why she was trapped in a body that wouldn’t let her move, but for the most part, she felt dozy and peaceful. She would go to sleep for a little while, just a little while more. She was sure that her mother would understand this time. 

Instead, when Cristiana opened her eyes again, there was crying. She was still laying down in a bed, tucked in blankets, but there were things stuck to her chest and there was loud, audible wailing. 

“Wasss…going on, mama?” Cristiana only ever was around her mother these days. The tears sounded like hers. 

“Oh, she’s awake. Mrs. Aveiro, your daughter is awake, a spot of brighter news.”

That voice wasn’t her mother’s and was directed at her instead. Cristiana managed to focus her eyes on where all the wailing was coming from, and indeed, there was her mother, now coming towards the bed but still utterly destroyed looking. Cristiana suddenly felt frightened. What was wrong with her? Was she ill with something terrible? Why did mama look as if someone had died when she was living and breathing right in front of her?

“Oh, my baby, my baby.” More howls. Cristiana reached to touch her mother’s face. 

“Cristiana, your heart stopped this morning due to extreme duress and strain. We are currently waiting for a psychiatrist to come meet with you to discuss what brought you to this point.” A doctor standing nearby was reading off a chart, and he looked solemn too. Now he had a hand on her mother’s shoulder. The tears were still ongoing. 

“Don’t cry, mama, I’m sorry.” Cristiana now felt horrible guilt. All her attempts to make herself thin had done this and nearly killed her mother. She was a wreck, a terrible wreck, all because of her. A terrible daughter. A bad child like all her other siblings.

“My two baby daughters!” Cristiana’s mother bawled. Two? Cristiana didn’t understand. She turned to the doctor, who just looked, sad. A morose expression. The only way to explain it. 

“Your sister Katia, Cristiana, passed away some time last night. I am so sorry. Your mother has had a devastating day, and I hate to bear this tragic news, but I want you to know we are going to do everything we can to get you back on your feet through this.”

Cristiana opened her mouth, but no noise came out. How? Katia was young, how could this have happened? They only saw her once or twice a week themselves, and Cristiana always felt anger at how she drank and smoke and partied with her friends every weekend, but she was practically just a girl. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t possibly be real. 

“How? No, no, not her, no.” More guilt. She’d been too rough on her sister. She always was. Katia was always prettier and better than her and now she was gone. Cristiana was a bad sister and a bad child. 

“Likely alcohol poisoning, my dear, and then she asphyxiated. I understand this is devastating, but try to breathe with me, so we don’t raise your heart rate too much.”

Cristiana scrabbled to try and grab onto her mother, feeling suddenly panicked. “I’m sorry, mama, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I won’t go away from you, won’t go away. I love you, I’ll be a good daughter, I’ll get better. I’m not going to leave you.”

~

Sabina tapped her foot. The line was ringing and ringing. If the phone didn’t work anymore, it probably would say out of service. He’d be just the sort of guy to never change his phone like a fucking idiot. Sabina personally always changed her number constantly when she used to work sort of within the gang, but Sauli was never that bright of a guy. 

There was finally a click. 

“Hello?” It was definitely Sauli. His voice sounded incredibly timid. 

“Hey-o, you fuck. It’s Ramos. I have to call collect in here, sorry you’re getting dinged with that charge. Why do you still have the same phone number?”

“Ramos? Seriously? I…shit, okay. I heard the thing at the start of the call asking if I wanted to accept a call from a prison and I…”

“Jesus, you have other people locked up out for your head? You never were a genius. Why did you pick up? Anyway, how’ve you been?”

“Ramos, what the fuck?”

“Okay, so that’s the kind of conversation we’re going to be having.” Sabina sighed, feeling impatient. “Well, yada yada, I was arrested, you saw that coming, I plead guilty for a plea bargain in a low security prison, blah blah blah, now I’m in here and I have a question for you.”

“What?”

Sabina looked around to make sure there were no guards, then lowered her voice just in case. “What if I could get you some nice, decent street drugs for ass-backwards cheap? Like cheap as hell, blowout discount price? I don’t really want questions about why I’m sitting on a bunch here in the clink, but do you want it? Jack the price to hell when you resell it or pass it on, who cares. The shit’s fine.”

“Ramos, that sounds a little too good to be true.”

“Believe it, or don’t. But I’ll give you the name of my guy.”

“You have a guy, in prison?”

“Oh, shit, none of it’s for me. You know me, Sauli. I’m just a middleman. Look, I get that a lot of people don’t trust you. But I always have, you’ve never let me down. Can I give you the guy’s number?”

A long pause. Sauli was thinking, although Sabina wasn’t concerned about the answer.

“Yeah, okay, okay. Give me the name.”

Sabina gave Giroud’s name and number over and slammed the phone down back onto its hook. One chore done for the day. She’d tried to keep herself as busy as possible since Family Day, and it had proven to work, at least to some degree. Focus all her energy on this new project, and maybe everything wouldn’t hurt so much. That was the way to do it. She knew she’d find Giroud likely near or behind the kitchen wasting time, so she headed outside with purpose.

“There you are, Frenchie. Give me one of those smokes.” Sabina spoke sharply with him, as if she was the one with authority, as he puffed away outside the kitchens. It was so easy to figure out how he ticked. Most people were. Giroud handed one over and waited.

“Expect a call from an idiot from Sauli. He’s a pushover. Lowball yourself on how much it all costs, I really don’t care if you wanted a good price for it. Get it out of here and honestly, after that, you should make yourself scarce.”

“You sure talk tough for a bitch behind bars.”

“Oh, please, Frenchie. I get what Ozil was for you. She was a pawn. You don’t care that she died because of all this mess. I’ll be honest, I feel a bit sorry for her.” Sabina chuckled lightly into her cigarette. “I wouldn’t want to be on the other end of the demented wrath of ter Stegen. So, who do you think killed her? I'm dying to find out.”

“You really are a cold bitch.”

“You get a little money, or you get nothing. Look, Frenchie. I’m not asking for any of it. I’m not greedy. I just don’t want it around the girls.”

“You sure act righteous for a gang criminal.”

Sabina waved her hand in front of her and took a little bow. “What can I say.”

~

~Barcelona, Spain, three and a half years earlier~

“Up we go, little man, we’re going to go see daddy this afternoon, how about that?” Sabina lifted Sergio out of his crib despite his protesting. Sabina felt lucky that the kid loved to sleep, once he’d finally figured out how the cycle of sleeping worked. She could go most of the night with only one nurse, and the rest, he had figured out. Smart kid, but Sabina knew he would be. 

Big, already, too. That was good. He was always in the top percentile in his doctor’s appointments, and Sabina always felt a little relieved. She’d not really drank much at all during her pregnancy, but smoking had been a different story, even if her Google searches told her how bad it was for babies. She’d throw a quick thanks to God for keeping him healthy as a horse even when she’d failed him so early on in motherhood. 

But things were also very different now, and Sabina refused to fail him now in any capacity. Sabina had managed to swindle and talk and convince Marco into taking a better position in Barcelona for his work, and with that, she’d managed to move them out of Madrid with the ruse that she wanted her son to have a father growing up. Well, half a ruse. She wasn’t wrong that she wanted Marco to stick around in a funny sense, so she could have a break sometimes. But really, she needed the choice to be Marco’s to move, not hers, or it would look bad, so she’d gotten her way. It was a shame, in a bit of a sense. Madrid had always been home, all her life. Sabina knew she was the sort that lived and breathed Madrid, and Barcelona was just, a shithole, but you did what you needed to do for your kids. 

“Look at you, what a handsome bruiser you are already.” Sabina blew a raspberry on Sergio’s tummy as she put him on the change table. He was still crying, and probably continue to do so for some time. “Look, I feel you, kid. I hate getting up in the morning too. Was never good at it.”

Sergio kept fussing, although a bit quieter, as Sabina finished changing his diaper. He’d probably calm down once he had a boob stuck in his mouth. It was weird. Sabina loved her son more than she could possibly imagine, and she’d kill anyone that ever tried to lay a finger on him, but if she was dead honest, she wished she could bottle feed him. The books said breast was best, so she was trying to do the right thing for him, but Christ, the achy, leaky tits, not to mention the sore nipples when he tried to bite, did nothing for her. Never had. Sabina brought him out to the living room and settled him on to one of her tits, flipping on the TV. She wished she liked breastfeeding better. Motherhood still felt so fucking unnatural, even though she tried her best every day to do the right thing for him. It took more reading than she was expecting. Marco really seemed to get being a dad, which was great, but Sabina wished it was so intuitive for her. They didn’t live together, and Sergio stayed most of the time wish her because he was so little, but Sabina hoped she could one day keep the same bond with her child so easily. 

Her phone was going off. Probably Marco asking when to expect them. The man was punctual to a fault, which Sabina struggled to work with. If she was honest, Marco was a bit of a prat and definitely not really her type, even if he was decently handsome, but at least he was a good guy. 

“Hello?”

“Morning. We still on for ten?”

“Absolutely. Sergio’s having some breakfast right now, he says hi.”

A little bit of a laugh. She could sense from Marco that he felt similarly, that she was definitely not his sort of person, especially with the tattoos coating the upper half of her body and her harshness, not to mention her deadpan humour that she knew confused some people, but they both tried to make it work at co-parenting, and they weren’t doing a half-bad job. 

“Do you need a ride today?”

“Nope, I can drive, thanks though. I’ll see you at ten. Sergio’s looking forward to it.”

~

“When is the van coming to take her down again?”

“We leave at noon. They should finish her paperwork down the hill and get her discharged by one, but I’ll be back after she’s dropped off.” Maria swung her feet and looked pensive from her place sitting on top of one of the tables. 

“God, bet she’s so excited. Fuck, I really would be.”

Marta couldn’t bear to hear the chatter from the other girls anymore, even though it was all positive and good. Geri, Rafa, Neymar, Kun, and Ivana, with the reluctant Maria in tow, were all waiting for Sabi to come out to surprise her with a goodbye. She imagined even Leo would make an appearance to say goodbye to one her girls, although she currently wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

Her heart ached, although it was an ache she knew only she would have to contend to. Everyone would miss Sabi, of course, but Sabi was always who she took care of and bonded with. It was vital to Sabi’s whole life that she leave right now, but it hurt so fucking bad. She couldn’t sit there and tell anyone that she was sad that was Sabi was leaving her, because that was so selfish. Sabi was excitedly filling out paperwork with Enrique right now in his office, and Marta knew how happy she was. So happy to be free.

Marta knew, at the end of the day, that her sentence was not a long one compared to many of her compatriots. To be very honest, she would likely manage to secure parole in a year, or even less, particularly if she could keep a special relationship with Enrique, but every day seemed to slow as the end of her sentence inched closer. Everyone was subdued, despite their joy for Sabi, and she realized most of the women were considering their own freedom. Maria seemed extra-quiet, but it made sense. Her sentence was not even close to being complete.

“Really makes you think, maybe they do care about us in here. Enrique was really looking out for Sabi, you know? Like he really noticed everything.” Neymar was all smiles and positivity today. The poor girl understood nothing, and payed attention to even less, in Marta’s opinion, but she was sweet. 

“We’ll be here for you, Marta, if you need anything.” Ivana rubbed Marta’s shoulder. Ivana was always a little more intuitive than the rest. Marta reached up and took Ivana’s hand. 

“I’ll be alright. But I thank all of you.”

“You think she’ll survive in the real world?”

“She was born to survive. I have every inch of faith in her in the world.” Marta still clung to Ivana’s hand. Then Geri stood up, taking a look down the hall. 

“They’re coming. They’re not going to want to drag this out. I know how it goes. Come on, everyone, get up, get ready for rapid-fire hugs. Marta, come here.”

Everyone got up and crowded around the door of the recreation room. Marta felt afraid of getting too close, for some reason. This was stupid, this was silly. She was never afraid of saying goodbye. Marta didn’t lose friends, she wouldn’t lose Sabi. 

“Wait, where’s Leo?”

“She’s outside.” Geri got up and went over to the barred window to look out to the yard. “Yeah, she’s out there, playing with her ball. I tried to get her to come in, but she’s sad. I’m sorry.”

That made Marta a little angry. They all had feelings they didn’t want to contend with, nobody wanted to say goodbye to one of their own, but Leo should know better. Leo was their leader, she was meant to be strong.

“Okay, okay, a little room, everyone.” Enrique spread the crowd of girls around the door to let Sabi in. She looked like she’d been crying, but she looked so happy again. Marta knew her depression wasn’t cured, but already, this was a way to start getting her mind healthier and strong again. She was going to get better. 

Neymar was the first to give Sabi a big hug, and Marta could tell that she was very overwhelmed with all the people and attention, but still clinging back to every hug, nodding at every well-wish, trying to give a word of encouragement back. Marta let everyone go before her, but Geri was right. Enrique was keeping everyone’s goodbye short. It was her turn. 

“Marta.”

“My girl.” Marta brought Sabi into her arms and planted kisses all over Sabi’s face. Enrique wouldn’t do anything, not to her, not now. “I love you so much, but I need you to get better out there. Don’t do it for me though. Do it for yourself, you deserve to love yourself.”

Sabi started to cry again, big, wet tears that got all over Marta’s shirt when she pressed her head against Marta’s front. “I’m scared. I’m excited, but I’m scared. I feel alone and like I’m going to be naked without you there to guide me. You were there for me the day I arrived, scooping me and all my problems off the bathroom floor.”

“Don’t be scared. You are going to have people there to support you like I did, and I know you got this.”

“I love you too, Marta, I love you so much and I’m going to miss you so much, I’m leaving you behind.”

“You’re not leaving me behind. I can’t be shaken so easily.” Marta was crying too, although she smiled down at Sabi. 

“Oh, you’re makeup, it’s getting ruined. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Roberto, I think it’s time, dear. Come on. Ter Stegen.” Enrique spoke in a gentle tone, pulling Sabi away from Marta’s grasp and beckoning for Maria. Sabi kept turning and waving as they headed down the hall, and Marta tried hard to wave back without crumbling. She would not break Sabi’s heart that way by showing herself so weak and bereft. She would be strong for Sabi. 

“Hey, let’s go wave bye at the window, she’ll look up and notice.” Geri pushed in the chair she was leaning on and headed over to the window, the rest of the women following. Marta nearly couldn’t bear to go over, but dragged herself over to wave goodbye one more time. 

She was glad she did. As Maria unlocked the minivan doors, Leo’s tiny figure bolted across the field and vaulted over the short fence separating the field from the parking lot, practically knocking Sabi over in a hug. 

~

~Barcelona, Spain, two years earlier~

“Okay, girls, I’m out for the night. Anyway, I got a guy coming for eleven-thirty.” Bebé tossed her hand of cards into the middle of the table and got up from the table, finishing her glass of wine.

“Oooooo, got the late shift.”

“Yeah, he’s kind of an idiot, but he works a shift until late himself, so there you have it.”

“Just make sure he’s quiet leaving, especially in his vehicle, if he came in one, okay, babe?” Marta rested her foot on the edge of the table to finish taking off the nail polish on her toes. 

“I will, don’t worry, Marta. You’re such a den mother.” 

That got a laugh out of the other women as they all started to get up and put their glasses and snack plates in the sink, ready to either turn in for the evening or start some cam-work shifts if they did that sort of thing. Marta didn’t like being so fussy with the other girls about rules, but none of them held it against her. It all had to be run as neatly as possible in here, or something could look fishy. No clients in the building past one in the morning, only one client at a time per girl, and so on. Already, she knew how much the neighbours hated them. There were middle-aged mothers that spat at their house as they walked by with their children, but Marta didn’t expect everyone to understand. It was just important that they be the most behaved group of sex workers that ever existed, lest they have a bevy of complaints flung at them. 

They’d received a couple, stupid things like too many cars blocking the street, and a few rowdy men. Marta hoped they could minimize those things too, in the future, although it was difficult to find a way to fix their parking woes. 

“Well, I’m heading up for the night too. I really need to try that mask I got with the snail in it.” Marta got up.

“That Korean mask, right? Tell us how it is.” Pierretta trotted up the stairs with Marta. Marta was so proud of how headstrong Pierretta got all the time. She didn’t take men’s shit anymore, and even though she was only nineteen, Marta knew she could kick the shit out of anyone that tried to harm her now. 

“I will. Night, babe.”

“Night, Marta, love you.”

Marta shut her door and went over to her dresser to wipe all her makeup off. Maybe all her makeup made her look like a whore, but she didn’t care. It was beautiful and fun to do. Marta loved to take her phone and watch makeup tutorials late into the night on the internet, and although she now had money to regularly pay her rent, virtually all her spare money went towards more and more makeup. But if that was what she loved, then it was fine. She’d made her peace with the fact that her money would always be tight. It just had to be tight, not non-existent. 

There was the click of the door downstairs. Bebé’s client. Marta put one of her videos on and flopped on her bed, one ear still open, in case the client caused trouble. But she reminded herself that she needed to give herself a break sometimes and she was sure it would be fine. Some of the other girls were still downstairs, not quite ready for bed and still chatting. Marta reached for her headphones and settled into her pillow, tucking her quilt around herself.

That is, until she heard a crash and some yelling. Lots and lots of yelling, no, in fact, screaming. Something was wrong, horribly, horribly wrong. Marta had never heard a noise like that in her home, ever. Fuck. Marta bolted out of her bed and ripped the headphones out of her ears, flinging the door open to her bedroom. 

It was worse than she could have possibly imagined. There were cops filling the bottom floor, arguing with and trying to drag her friends away, out the door. Marta became enraged. The FUCKERS. They were not being illegal or ill-behaved, but the cops didn’t care. They never cared. Someone in the neighborhood must have called in with a fucking lie, a complaint that convinced the cops to raid them under the ruse of a late-night client. Marta knew her whole vision was becoming blurry and red, staring at the top of the stairs, until she zeroed in on a cop trying to pull Pierretta away. She was fighting back, trying to pull away and hit, but he was stronger and calling for reinforcement. No. Nobody was touching that girl. Marta loved her and had seen her grow into a strong girl who didn’t have to answer to any fucking cop. Pierretta was close to the stairwell. Nobody noticed Marta still standing there, so she ran halfway down the stairs and jumped over the side, landing on the cop’s back and holding on. He staggered forward with the force of Marta on him, before smashing his head into the wall. Another cop was immediately on Marta, but she stayed clinging to the first cop’s back and flung her elbow as hard as she could into the face of the cop behind her. Pierretta screamed and scrambled away, but a third cop was already on them, tearing Marta away from the first cop, who dropped to the ground from his head injury.

The rest was a blur, but Marta knew she was thrown to the ground and hit, probably with a baton. Hit again and again, to the side of her face, her back, her legs, before being pulled out the door to her house. Her own fucking house. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair at all. Marta started to scream at the top of her lungs, anything to alert the world to this injustice. 

Her friends, all of them were being bundled away into a cop van waiting at the side of the street, but the cops were hauling her to their cruiser alone. They were shoving her inside the car, but Marta kept making as much noise as possible, bawling at the loss of her safety and her house.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made the decision to forgo a summary of this chapter, as I do not want to spoil anything in it. 
> 
> This chapter is written in a bit of a different way, only focusing on two characters. I wanted to do this character's story justice. 
> 
> She has proven to be a big favourite with practically everyone reading and commenting. This chapter was really hard for me to write-- in fact, it was one of the hardest. It's a story that has been in my mind since the moment I started writing this fic. 
> 
> Wishing everyone love, and please let me know how you're liking everything.

“Hey Gwen, wanna go to the gym later today and exercise together? I could use a spotter if I wanna do weights and I’d like the company anyway.” Luka took off her overshirt and looked for a new one on her shelf. Gwen couldn’t help but take a little peek of Luka shirtless, even if the bra did nothing for almost all the women, and besides, she’d seen virtually every woman’s tits already in the showers, including Luka’s. 

“Yeah, sure. I probably need the physically activity. I’m growing fat and lethargic.”

“Oh, you’re tiny. You haven’t lost all your muscle from exercising.”

“I do exercise less, though.” Gwen stayed flopped over on her bed, feeling particularly lazy and soft today. She liked the feeling, a little bit. She remembered how it used to be in her dorm room when she was finished all her homework and she could laze in bed and feel as sleepy as she wanted with no obligations. Back then, it used to usually end with oral sex and a nap, both of which she would love right now, but having a rest was good enough. 

Gwen hated to admit that she’d grown quite a crush on Luka. It was a bit awkward for her, considering Luka was already thirty and she was still only twenty-one. Luka probably saw her as just a kid. She knew Sabina had seen her as a kid when they’d just met, and Sabina was a bit younger than Luka yet. 

She missed sleeping in the same space as Sabina, but this wasn’t that bad. She already talked to Luka a lot during meals, but this did let her crush run rampant, if she was honest. There was something just a little bit more intimate about sharing a sleeping space together. Maybe that’s why Jamie and Cris had gotten on so well, despite their vast differences in personality. This was definitely a real crush too, considering Gwen liked to think she was pretty forward with people these days, but she was now finding herself shy about making advances at Luka. She thought back to when she offered to fool around with Cris. Yeah, she’d found Cris pretty, and she’d liked her as a person, but the offer had definitely been casual. On no planet did she want to be Cris’ girlfriend. 

“Okay, I gotta go prep for lunch shift, let me know when you’re done your electrics shit, and we’ll go.” Luka finished changing her shirt, then dug through her shelf for her apron. 

“Have fun. I’ll be here, wasting my life away until lunch.”

“Just don’t let them catch you napping.” Luka ran the tips of her fingers over the top of Gwen’s head as she passed, giving Gwen a few light tingles down her spine. Gwen knew she should get up. In some ways, she wished that electrics was longer than a few hours. They made a bit more money for the commissary than the other girls because they were doing more skilled labour, but the days were short. It equaled out to be the same amount of money as the rest of the girls, really, and they did get a shorter day, which made most of the other women very jealous, but what could you do. Other jobs were shorter and made better money to make up for it, so the women in electrics weren’t alone. Cris made good money, and all she had to do was sit and watch while women filled out a workbook in front of her, and she knew ter Stegen made okay money driving the van, which was just an on-call job. 

The temptation to close her eyes for a few minutes was proving very hard to ignore, now that Luka had left. If she couldn’t have the blow job and nap, couldn’t she just have the nap, and dream about a blow job? Gwen hated that she was that needy for sex, but she chalked it up to her age. 

“Hey, wake up, hon.” 

Sabina was prodding her. Gwen knew she’d had her eyes closed for maybe four seconds, and Sabina was already there, making sure she didn’t get in any trouble. 

“Sorry, I’m up, I’m up.”

“You feeling okay?”

“I’m totally fine, just really lazy today.”

“They force us to get eight hours of sleep, you shouldn’t be.” Sabina came and sat on the bed, pulling Gwen upright. 

“It’s because I’m bored, that’s all. I’m doing more stuff after lunch, I’ll wake up.”

“You liking these new digs?”

“I miss sharing with you, but Luka is really cool, you know she is. How’s living with the Giant Nightmare going? Still have a truce?”

“I really fucked up getting momentarily emotional around the woman, Gwenny. She’s been infuriatingly calm and level about everything. Makes it so I can’t even want to be angry at her.”

“Maybe she’s not a nightmare, then.”

“Mm. So, when are you going to ask Luka out?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gwen hadn’t breathed a word about her crush to Sabina. She’d spoken a little bit about it to Cris, who she knew wouldn’t have dared blab any of it to Sabina, but she’d forgotten that Sabina was a master of reading people, especially her. Gwen didn’t know how obvious she was being with her feelings, but then, Sabina did know her better than anyone else probably ever had. 

“Come on, Gwen. I’m not stupid.”

“Okay, yeah. But I feel really like, weird about all that stuff, I don’t know.”

“You like keeping things casual with girls in here because you haven’t wanted to think about having another relationship because it went so bad. But you like her and I don’t think you have anything to lose.”

“You don’t?”

“Listen to your mama bear in here. Take a chance on it. You’re older and wiser now, anyway.” Sabina pulled Gwen in by the shoulder for a cuddle.

“You’ve been talking to Giroud a lot, is everything okay? You’re not getting into trouble, are you?”

“So you’ve turned the tables on me to grill me. Don’t worry about me, okay? Everything’s all good, Giroud is a slimeball but he has smokes that I’ve been bumming off him, that’s all.”

~

~Cardiff University Residence, two and a bit years earlier~

“What are you doing on the computer still? Come lay down and cuddle.” Gwen stretched her arms out and wiggled her fingers at Chibuzo. 

“You’re so lazy today, Gwen, I’m wide awake.” Chibuzo wiggled her fingers but stayed at the computer, diligently scrolling through the page she was on and reading carefully. Gwen couldn’t read it from her angle on the bed, although it looked like some sort of informative website rather than social media. 

“I actually got up really early and did my workout already, and some reading, but then you came over and we haven’t gone and done anything. Anyway, what are you looking at? Is that homework?”

Chibuzo picked up the laptop and brought it over to the bed. “Scooch over, Gwen. Let me show you.”

“Okay, yeah, let me see.” Gwen sat up and made room for Chibuzo to come and sit cross-legged next to her. Chibuzo handed the laptop over, and Gwen did everything in her power not to make a face. It was the website for that company that did the summer trips again. Chibuzo hadn’t mentioned it for a couple months, but it had clearly been on her mind.

“Look how many pounds it is for a trip for a week to Spain! It’s so low!”

“Yeah, it is.” Gwen didn’t feel she could really contribute more. It was low. 

“What do you think? You always stay home so much, Gwen, we should do it, we should really do it, it’d be so much fun and it’d be good for you.”

“I go out a lot more than I used to, I’m a lot less shy, actually. We go to parties and stuff and I have fun. I like when we do.”

“A night at some freshman’s place getting wasted is not the same as travelling. Why are you so afraid of it?” Chibuzo put on a pouty face. It was frustrating when she was like this, when she got an idea in her head and wouldn’t let it go. She’d been so offended last time Gwen had insinuated that they weren’t ready to take a trip together, because she clearly felt ready to take one with Gwen.

“I’m not afraid of it. Okay, okay, let’s look at the different places you can go. Show me.”

“Well, it’s all sorts of places in Europe. Where would YOU want to go?”

Gwen thought about this question carefully. She felt just fine staying in Wales, visiting England for holidays. She’d gone to a few Tottenham games and enjoyed them very much. Staying in the hotels had been fun. Chibuzo was still waiting patiently for her answer, and Gwen scrabbled to come up with an equivalent to the fun time she had had in London. 

“Well, how about Madrid? I would love to visit the Bernabeu, see all the Real Madrid greats and all that.”

Chibuzo looked a bit unimpressed that the answer had to do with sports for a second, then decided to roll with it. “Spain’s so beautiful in the summer, it’ll be super busy there but that’s a really good idea. We could visit all the monuments all over, rent a car, make it like a road trip across Spain. Oh, Gwen, it’s such a good idea, can we book it? When’s a good time for you to go during the summer?”

“It’d be better if I wasn’t eighteen. Maybe after my birthday in July?” Gwen was hoping that by then, Chibuzo would have tired of the plan. Instead, she closed her laptop and put it on the floor, before turning and straddling Gwen for some kisses. 

“We’re going to have so much fun together. Imagine what it’ll be like when we get to be alone together in the hotels rather than a ratty dorm room?”

“My dorm is five-star living, what are you talking about?” Gwen leaned in closer to keep frenching Chibuzo back, opening her legs so Chibuzo could sit between them.

“Please, I think all dorms are run by slum landlords, this place is falling apart.”

“Then why don’t you give me a taste of this fine hotel living early, then?”

Chibuzo grinned and tugged at the waistband of Gwen’s tracksuit bottoms. 

~

“So that’s all of it, then?” Sabina stared at the bag that should have been full of brown sugar, sitting on the cement outside the loading dock. It wouldn’t have been a big bag, really, no more than about four and a half kilos worth of sugar, but it was a hell of a lot of heroin. Sabina took a puff of her cigarette, feeling stressed. 

“Yeah, that’s all of it.”

“Did you decide on a price with my contact?”

“I did. I can’t leave this in the kitchen, these women will sniff it out in an instant. We’ll have to move it until I can get it out of here all the way.”

“Well, we can’t just chuck a sugar bag full of smack somewhere, especially somewhere that will get easily found, like where Ozil dumped all the shit she had. Divvy it out, get it in bags, then hide them in little places. Anyway, then it would be ready-to-sell. You’ll be a real fucking professional, you knob.” Sabina was growing impatient with Giroud. She could never tell if he truly was evil, attempting to lay siege to all the women in here, or if he was just an incredibly stupid guy who had some master plan that blew up in his face. 

Giroud sighed and marched into the kitchen to steal some sandwich bags. Sabina hated that she got a bit of a rush out of this still, even though she knew how stupid this all was. Yes, she was much smarter than Giroud, and probably much smarter than Ozil, so she knew how to handle something like this, but it was still very risky. Roberto hadn’t been punished, for whatever reason, when she was caught with it, but it was probably because she was just a kid. Sabina knew she had no such privilege in here, no one willing to cut here a second chance. 

There was a bit of a squabble coming from the inside of the kitchen, and Sabina moved the sugar bag behind a crate and walked up the stairs to take a peek inside. 

“I mean it, get out of here! Get out of the kitchen, out, out, out!” Kroos was waving a spoon at Giroud, looking as if she just might hit him with it. Her other girls that worked kitchen, Jamie and Modric, were looking unimpressed at Giroud, but were staying out of it. Kroos was funny that way, she would lash out at all the wrong people over all manners of stupid things, even if she was in the right. She was in the right now, and Sabina was aware from her constant ranting that she hated how much Giroud snooped and “watched” the girls in the kitchen, even if he was really just watching for his shipments to come in. 

“Hey, Kroos, leave off!” Sabina poked her head all the way into the kitchen, still puffing on her cigarette. She didn’t care if the rest of the women saw her with it. Nobody would ever snitch on her, as they knew they’d feel the wrath. 

“What the fuck are you doing out there, Ramos?”

“Having a smoke, what does it look like?”

Kroos shook her head and stormed off towards the stoves. The rest of the girls dispersed back to their work stations, and Giroud followed Sabina back outside. 

“I got the box of plastic bags on my way out.” Giroud offered up the box.

“Nice. Alright, I’ll tell you all the best hiding places in the prison, listen closely.”

~

~Barcelona, Spain, three years earlier~

“Mamamamamamama."

“I know, you’re such a genius, buddy. Learning the right word first. Mamama. That’s right.” Sabina patted Sergio’s back as she walked around the living room with him in circles. He was cranky and trying to burp, but that didn’t stop his babbling. Sabina knew it was just babbling, and luck that he’d learned the “ma” noise before the “pa” noise, but she felt vindicated nonetheless. He’d technically learned how to say “mama” before “papa.” She’d won.

Sergio eventually managed to throw up all over the cloth on Sabina’s shoulder, and she rubbed his back to make sure it was all up, stilil going in circles with him. She rather liked when he liked to be walked endlessly around. She always liked to be active and moving around, rather than bored silly sitting still, so she was glad that he kept her on her feet so often.

He’d almost quieted all the way until Sabina’s phone rang, and then he started up crying again. Great, just great. Sabina irritably reached down and grabbed it, answering it without taking a look at who it was.

“Yeah, what?” Sabina snapped, trying to cradle the phone in her shoulder so she could hold Sergio properly. 

“Ramos?” The voice was a man’s, quiet and hushed. Almost a whisper that Ramos couldn’t hear. 

“What? Who the hell is this?”

“Ramos, it’s me. Sauli. You are in trouble. Shh, shh, don’t make loud noises.”

“What?” Sabina almost dropped the phone off her shoulder. 

“The whole family’s gone down in flames. Nobody noticed me, nobody implicated me. But they implicated you.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The family. Platini, and all that. They’ve all been taken down by the police. There’s been blood, shootouts. And I caught wind that they have laid names, and one of them was you.”

Sabina felt like she might drop Sergio at this rate. She knew all the colour from her face was draining away, and she felt cold. Sabina sat herself on the couch.

“But why me? I meant nothing to them.” Sabina knew her own voice was now quiet. Weak.

“Because the police have been tracing mysterious deaths for some time, and they routed them back to us. And so they said you because you stage-managed most of them. Ramos, I’m saying this for you to get out, they are coming.”

“I moved.”

“No, I mean they are coming for you now. It’s taken me ages to get a hold of you, I couldn’t find your number.”

“I know, I changed it.”

“I wanted to tell you, that I wasn’t the one that gave up your info. I got rid of it, like I promised I would. But Ramos, you have to get out. Now. Please.”

Sabina hung up without a word more to Sauli, even though he had more to say. She looked down at Sergio, sleeping so peacefully. Oh god. It was too late, then. They’d stop her at the Spanish border if she tried to get into France. She’d had no backup plan. She was stupid and she was fucked. And it would hurt Sergio. 

Sabina knew what she had to do. She got up and walked into Sergio’s room, stuffing as much of his clothes and favourite things into a diaper bag. The weird elephant toy he loved so much. All his favourite soothers. She had some emergency formula. Sabina got it out of the kitchen and jammed it in the bag, before picking up her phone again. 

"Marco?"

“Sabina?”

“Hey. Marco, I have a huge favour. I have some stuff I have to do that came up suddenly, can you please take Sergio for a bit? I’d owe you big time.”

“Um, yeah, it’s no problem, I don’t think. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Can I run him by?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I’m so sorry for the short notice, Marco. I’m so grateful.” Sabina was already heading out to the car with Sergio and the diaper bag. Everything was making her paranoid. Was there the noises of cop cars already. They would know her license plate number. Fuck. Another thing she was so fucking stupid not to change. She was an idiot, like all the rest of them. 

“Buckle up, baby. Mama’s gonna be driving a little faster than she normally does.” Sabina knew she was speeding, which would probably draw more attention to her vehicle. But she had to get Sergio to Marco’s, right now. She had to get him in a safe place. He was what mattered. Her whole life didn’t fucking matter at all, over his. 

Shit. There was a cop car that noticed the speeding. Shit. Sabina sped up. They’d see the license plate by now, they would ask for backup. Shit, shit, shit. 

“Hey, Sabina, what’s the rush? What is going on?” Marco stood near the door of his place as Sabina stormed in with Sergio’s carseat in one arm, overfilled diaper bag in the other. 

“Nothing. I just gotta go, now. Here, one second.” Sabina took Sergio out of the carseat and picked him up, covering his face with kisses. “Mama loves you so much, okay? I love you so much, Sergio. You’re going to have a good time with daddy, he’s going to take such good care of you.”

“Sabina, what’s going on?”

Sabina couldn’t bear staying in the room a second more. Any longer with Sergio and she’d start to cry. She’d scare him. Sergio had never seen his mother cry before. Sabina headed for the door, throwing it open to see a handful of cop cars waiting by her car. 

“I’ll go easy.” Sabina put her hands up and walked over to the police waiting. 

Marco was standing near the door, with Sergio now in his arms. He was asking something, sounding frightened. Sabina couldn’t even hear him as she walked towards the cops and let them push her against the police cruiser to cuff her.

 

~  
~Wad Ras Prison, two years earlier~

“INMATES. REMEMBER, BE GRACIOUS WITH YOUR NEW ROOMMATES. YOU ARE LADIES AND WE KNOW YOU CAN ACT LIKE IT!”

Sabina hated this guard. She was a bitch. She was in a bad mood anyway, a very bad mood. Her last roommate had offed herself about a month earlier and nobody had filled her spot since. A real tragedy and stuff, of course, but not having a roommate had been a blissful experience in this rat-hole. Nobody snoring and making noise and fuss. And she didn’t have to hear a blessed word about anyone’s personal lives. 

“Ramos! You get to start us off! You get…” The guard stared hard at the page of her clipboard. “Gwy…Gw…G…Bale! Where’s Bale!”

None of the new inmates, huddled in their ugly orange suits, moved. The guard sighed and tried again. “BALE. YOU. OVER THERE.” She gestured wildly towards Sabina and her room, yelling slowly as if the girl was an idiot. Finally, a girl ducked out and rushed over to where Sabina was standing. Sabina pointed at this Bale’s new bed, feeling a little surprised by the curious exchange that had just occurred. Bale plunked down on the bed and huddled up, turning away from Sabina.

Sabina tried to take a good look at her anyway. The most striking thing about her, Sabina realized, was that she was genuinely just a kid. A teenager, Sabina was sure of it. Her hair was really, really ratty and unclean, and pulled up in a loose, floppy bun. Sabina wondered how long the kid had gone without a shower. She had big, pretty eyes that practically popped out of her head just a bit, but they were both bloodshot and still teary. Constant tears that were only just barely being held in right now. Sabina felt a pang of emotion for the kid. 

“Hey, what’s your name, honey? I didn’t catch it there when she said it.”

The girl opened her mouth and spoke in English. Sabina didn’t know English, but she knew enough to know the girl had just said she didn’t speak Spanish. Damn. It made sense now, why her name had been too difficult to pronounce. It was obviously an unusual name. But now Sabina wanted the challenge. She’d help this kid, teach her Spanish and all that. 

“Me, Sabina.” Sabina pointed to herself. There was no point in telling this girl that she went by Ramos in here. She wouldn’t confuse the kid with the whole last name business. 

“Gwen.”

“Gwen, good, we’re getting somewhere.” Gwen wasn’t that hard of a name to pronounce. How stupid were the people running this place?

Gwen wiped at her eye with her arm. “No hablo español.”

“Well, you see, you just spoke it, so you know a little.” Sabina laughed briefly at her little joke, but Gwen looked confused and overwhelmed with the sentence, so Sabina tried again, gesturing with her fingers a little amount. “A little. You know a little.”

“Un poco.” Gwen answered back dutifully, her Spanish sounding so clunky it could practically be English. She still looked so scared, and Sabina felt her heart jolt around in her chest in a way she hadn’t felt for almost anyone. Her son elicited a feeling in her heart somewhat similar, but much stronger and more passionate. That was normal, though, Sabina figured. Why she was getting these emotions for an inmate was bizarre. 

“Hey kid, it’s gonna be okay, alright?” Sabina got up and moved to Gwen’s bed, hesitating a moment before hovering a hand above Gwen’s shoulder. When Gwen didn’t shy away, Sabina carefully put her arm properly around the girl. Gwen tucked her head into Sabina’s shoulder and started to cry. Normally, Sabina hated when people cried, especially in prison. There was no point to crying, it didn’t solve anything and just showed weakness. But somehow, this was different. Sabina wanted to help her, but didn’t know what to do except just keep her arm around her. Maybe that was all she needed right now. 

“It’s gonna be okay, it’s gonna be okay, kid. Don’t you worry for a second, because I’m here for you.”

~

“You don’t have to walk with us, Pique, we’re good.” Sabina trudged along towards the electrics workshop with Gwen, irritated that Pique was following in tow. 

“Hey, we’re all going to the same place, what does it matter?”

Sabina sighed and rolled her eyes. She’d keep her mouth shut. Pique was still fucking annoying, and her attempts to be nice were even more annoying, but she wasn’t going to fight it. 

“It’s fine, Sese.” Gwen wandered into the workshop and found her spot on the bench, waiting for the instructor to come in. Pique was already up at the front, ready to argue some stupid point from last week with the instructor. Sabina just didn’t care about this. She wasn’t interested in electronics, or anything. This all just didn’t matter to her. 

“Alright, class, before we get started, Pique, can you just sit DOWN, I just wanted to make an announcement. If I could remind everyone that last week, I was disappointed when we started using the metal rods as jousting sticks. If we could REFRAIN from that, this week, it would be much appreciated.”

The women nodded, some rolling their eyes a little. The games wouldn’t stop. Sabina zoned out while they all learned about their job for the day and the teacher finished giving the tutorial. 

“Sese, I’m going to bring you over your shit, okay? I got it for you.” Gwen got up to bring over the different wrenches and things they needed. Gwen took the job seriously. Gwen had professed before that she might as well learn and get her credits for it. She’d not known what she wanted to do in college and hadn’t chosen a major, but this gave her no choice but to learn it, so she was determined. 

“Okay.” Sabina stayed put at her workbench until she saw Giroud milling around the edge of the door. When she caught his eye, Giroud beckoned for her to come over. Fuck, what did he do wrong now?

“What’s going on?” Sabina pushed Giroud out into the hall a bit. “What happened?”

“I think I screwed up. I think some of the women found it where I put it in the laundry room.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Frenchie? Okay, where exactly did you put the rest of it?”

“It’s all over the place, like you said. But I don’t think I hid it well enough in the laundry room. Enrique totally knows a bunch of women are wigging out in there. The rest of the guards are crawling the laundry room looking for any more.”

“Fuck.” Sabina whispered. When she looked down, she wanted to throttle Giroud. He was holding a fucking bag of it, balled up in his fist but there nonetheless. “Why the fuck do you have that?”

“I wasn’t done hiding it.”

“You are the STUPIDEST man I’ve ever seen in my life, Giroud.” Sabina noticed out of the corner of her eye that Zidane and Enrique were both coming down the hall. “Hide it, put it in your pocket, do something with it. Get it out of sight, you idiot, get rid of it!” Sabina tried to go back inside to the workbenches, but Enrique was waving to Giroud already, flagging him to see what was going on.

“I’ve solved it, sir. We’ve found our perpetrator.” Giroud let the bag unfold in his hand. God, no, god. Giroud had played her. He’d had time to stuff it down his pants and shirt. No, no, no. Sabina didn’t know what to do, except try and stay standing upright.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve had my suspicions for some time, sir. She’s been spending too much time around the kitchens, and you know, she does have a history.”

“No.” It was all Sabina could whisper. “That’s not how it is.”

Enrique looked shocked at Sabina, looking at her hard, then back to Zidane. Zidane blinked for a moment, then shrugged and nodded to Enrique. 

“Cuff her.”

“NO!” Sabina scrambled to try and get her hands out of Giroud’s grasp, but it was too late. He was pushing her against the wall to cuff her, and women were gathering at the door, despite the attempts of the instructor to hold them back.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” Sabina could hear Pique screeching in the back of the group, trying to push further forward to try and talk to either Enrique or Zidane. There were backup guards coming down the hall, and more women collecting, coming out of the library, the rec room. Sabina tried to stay upright still. She had her honour, they would not see her break. Giroud started to pull her down the hall, and Sabina tried to walk with him, feeling resigned. 

“Get ter Stegen. Take her down to max in the van.” It was all Zidane had to say, but it was enough. Gwen started chasing after the group down the hall, screeching in a panic of both English and Spanish. She caught hold of Sabina’s free arm and tried to pull her back, still begging at the top of her lungs for them to let her go. Sabina was not going to cry in front of Gwen, she would not. Her heart was breaking just as much as Gwen’s was, but she couldn’t do that to her, scare her and break down.

“You are strong without me, Gwen. You are strong without me, Gwen, you are strong without me, you are strong without me.” 

Sabina kept repeating it, over and over as much as she possibly could, until another guard finally pulled Gwen back as ter Stegen met them at the door. Sabina turned in time to watch Gwen’s face crumple, before she fell to her knees and curled into a ball as women descended on her to pat her back. Giroud shoved her out the door, before Sanchez followed as backup to get her in the car. Sabina caught ter Stegen’s eye as she unlocked the door, and her face wobbled, although Sabina could barely process anything right now. Everything felt numb.

“Get the car going, ter Stegen, we’re making this quick.”

Ter Stegen started the van and started crawling out of the parking lot, as Sabina stared emptily out the front of the van window, sandwiched between Giroud and Sanchez. 

“You really did it this time, Ramos. Finally got what you had coming to you.” Giroud snarled. 

“Maybe you’re right.” Sabina shrugged. Nothing mattered anymore. She caught ter Stegen’s eye a second time in the rearview mirror, and ter Stegen frowned. 

“What’s Bale going to do without her den mother, huh?” Sanchez jeered, both he and Giroud egging each other on. 

“She’ll be fine.” Sabina watched as the prison disappeared out of view down the hill, the cold, austere box-shaped maximum prison taking its place. “Nobody deserves a mother like me.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone deals with the departure of Ramos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! A bit slow getting back into writing this one, I will totally admit, the last chapter drained me emotionally, but I'm back on trajectory! Hope to be a bit quicker with the next chapter! ;)
> 
> Let me know how you're liking it!

Cristiana reached for her cup of yoghurt on the counter, then turned to look over the dining room. It was quiet and subdued, far more than the sluggishness that accompanied breakfast. Everyone seemed numb, even people that had never spoken to Ramos. People that feared her. People left prison all the time. Cristiana knew she hadn’t been here that long, but she knew people’s sentences ended, women got moved, and so on. And yet everyone, including herself, was sitting in a shock. 

“We’re having a meeting later, Cristiana.” Jamie offered her an orange from behind the counter, which Cristiana accepted and put on her tray. 

“I’ll find you. Are you doing lunch or dinner later?”

“Dinner. It’ll be during the day. Go sit down now.” Jamie’s hairnet-covered head disappeared back from behind the tall counter to go back into the kitchen to keep working. Cristiana knew Jamie didn’t like serving very much and usually kept cooking in the back, so it was a rare occurrence when she made appearances giving out meals. 

Gwen and Luka weren’t sitting yet, but Cristiana took her place across Rakitic and ter Stegen anyway. She considered going and sitting with Pepa and Kroos for a moment, but something about it still didn’t seem right to do so. They were both sitting across the table from each other, as they always did, but they sat in dull silence. It was better to keep habit, right now, Cristiana decided. Luka and Gwen should be here soon. 

“I’m sorry, Ronaldo.” Rakitic put her cereal spoon down. 

“I just, don’t even know what I’m thinking, you know, Rakitic? I don’t even know what I’m feeling.”

Ter Stegen looked up abruptly. “It’s bad in there. I don’t wish it on a person.”

Cristiana felt startled. Ter Stegen just simply, didn’t contribute to conversation. Cristiana was used to her quiet presence at the table, not hostile, Cristiana could now see, but just reserved. 

“How long did you spend in max, ter Stegen? I didn’t know you did.”

“I spent four months. Then my trial finished and I was moved here.” Ter Stegen went back to eating her breakfast, and Cristiana knew ter Stegen was done talking. She wouldn’t push further to hear how bad it was, although now she felt even sicker thinking about Ramos in there.

There was a rustle of bodies turning, and Cristiana turned to see why everyone was shifting. It was Luka walking Gwen in, and Cristiana felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. Luka was holding Gwen’s arm, keeping her upright. She was going slow, very slow, but if she went any faster, she would most certainly be dragging Gwen along. Luka’s hair was wet and in a little ponytail, which was the case of most of the women coming to breakfast, unless they dried and styled their hair before coming to eat, which Cristiana usually did. Gwen’s hair was always wet and thrown up in her sloppy loose bun, and Cristiana had never seen her with a different hairstyle, ever. Today, though, her hair was down, falling everywhere and practically completely covering her face. Cristiana could see how long it really was, and it went past her bum. It looked greasy and stringy and it certainly hadn’t been washed. She hadn’t been near the shower, and it had likely taken all of Luka’s cajoling to get her up before a guard did. Luka sat Gwen down, who put her head on the table, her hair spreading everywhere. 

“Should someone get her breakfast?” Rakitic started to stand. 

“She doesn’t want it. It’s okay. We’re going to take it hour by hour.” Luka was speaking with authority, not the maternal authority that Ramos had over Gwen, but an authority nonetheless. 

Cristiana wanted to put her arm around Gwen, but it was a precarious idea. She was aware that everybody grieved differently, and she didn’t know how Gwen did. Some people wanted space and quiet, others wanted attention. 

Gwen started to gently sob into the crooks of her own elbows, the wall of hair still shrouding her face. Luka scooted over beside Gwen, still without her own breakfast, and wrapped her arms around Gwen from behind. 

~

~FC Barcelona Femeni vs. Atletico Madrid Feminas, Estadio Cerro del Espino, Madrid, Spain, nine years earlier~

Leo wiped the sweat from her forehead, jogging in place for a moment. The sun was beating down hard, and she’d been running non-stop. It was worth it, though. She’d scored twice already, and Leo desperately wanted the hattrick to finish off the day. 

The stands were full, but she knew the stands rarely were unless it was teams such as Barcelona and Atleti playing together. It was frustrating. She respected all three thousand or so of the fans that showed up, but she knew that if she were a boy, playing even at her slight age of eighteen, there would be at least sixty thousand people cheering her on. If she were even a boy on Barca’s second team, there would be fifteen thousand. But that was okay. More of a challenge. Full stands watching her whip Atleti to the ground on their own pitch would help her make her mark. 

In the Women’s Primera Division, Leo already knew that people feared her. It was a delicious feeling that she relished. She knew that the coaches were constantly scrambling to find ways to block her, and Leo knew how often she was marked in any game she played, but that only made her fight harder. This was Leo’s first year playing fully on the senior team in the starting eleven, and she knew she was young, at only eighteen, but there were only a few games left and she’d already long secured the top goalscorer in the league already. There were Champions Leagues to be had, other cups, a beautiful, bright future. She’d make sure every football fan across the world knew her name. 

Not that she’d ever let anyone know that. Leo knew her ego pumped through her harder than most, but she remained quiet, the way she always was. 

These thoughts disappeared from Leo’s mind when Gili rattled down the field towards her with the ball. Now the only thing that mattered was that ball. 

“Here, here! Go wide!” Leo shouted, the only time her voice was ever loud. There were already three Atleti defenders coming for her, but that was okay. Gili ran up a little further and passed the ball, which Leo just barely caught with the edge of her left foot before kicking it out from underneath the defender beside her. The goal was so close, so fucking close. Leo wanted Atleti on their knees. 

One last fake-out of the next defender was all she needed before she hooked the ball into the corner of the net. There were moans and whistles from most of the stadium, and loud, raucous cheers from the little Barcelona section. There was still such a scramble of legs that Leo didn’t see past the goal, couldn’t hear any voices past the cheering, the whistles, that she didn’t notice the leg of an Atleti player slide out in front of her, sending her rolling on the ground, the world going black for just a moment. 

When Leo re-opened her eyes, all she could see and feel was searing pain. Horrible, terrible scorching pain. She thought maybe she was screaming, but she wasn’t sure. She thought maybe her teammates were there too. There were suddenly hands on her, on her legs. Her left leg made a terrible feeling when they shifted it slightly, and Leo knew that she did scream then, did throw her hands out to try and get whoever was touching her off. 

“Leona, we’re going to get you on a stretcher, on one, two, three, okay?” 

Leo didn’t remember making it awake to three.

~

“Leo, I’m just saying, now is your time to figure something out. Reign supreme. You know that everybody feared Ramos and only treated you with respect because they didn’t know what to make of you. You don’t command a room like she did, you know that.” 

“Don’t tap your feet at me, Geri.” Leo scowled, feeling petulant. Her girls were all sitting there, watching her and waiting for instruction on what to do, now that their main foes were falling apart in front of them. To be honest, Leo didn’t feel like doing anything. Everybody had felt sorry for themselves since Sabi’s departure, and Leo didn’t feel her own group was really keeping it together as well as they could. Even as Geri and her argued, Kun was drawing in her notebook, Neymar was looking into space, Marta was filing her nails, and lord knew what the hell Ivana was mumbling to Maria. Suarez was sitting and paying close attention to the argument, but that was Suarez for you. After their initial, bumpy meeting, Suarez followed Leo everywhere she went. 

“Be a leader, Leo! I know you have it in you!”

“And how do I do that, Geri? What, do I avenge my enemy?”

“It isn’t a bad idea, Leo. I told you we were on better terms. She isn’t a bad person. All I know is that she wasn’t to blame for whatever the hell happened. I tried to see what was going on yesterday, and all I know is that it was Giroud that was holding the smack to begin with.”

“They used to smoke together outside all the time,” Maria offered, then went silent. 

“They did! You see, Leo, we know it’s his fault! And I know your mind works in some pretty incredible ways sometimes, if anyone can come up with some scheme to catch him with it, it’s you!” Geri waved her hands around, getting riled up. 

“Alright, Geri. I’ll figure it out, I’ll figure it out.” Leo wished she didn’t feel so tired. She knew that she needed a change within herself, a big change. Something to jumpstart her system to the same energy that she used to have, even within the prison. She’d had lots of energy during the football match, but that was about the most joy and motivation she’d had in a long time. A lot was on her mind. Kun was growing fatter and fatter by the day. One day, the baby would come, which Leo knew was going to be painful, far more for Kun but even for her. She thought a lot about her future with Kun. Once Kun was released, she would want her baby back. Did Leo want to stick around? Did she want to be a mom? She didn’t want to leave Kun, but it was a lot to think about. Leo reached over to pet Kun’s arm while it rested on the table as she drew. 

~

~Hospital Universitario HM Madrid, Madrid, Spain, nine years earlier~

“Can you hear me, Leona? Yes, yes, she’s coming out of it now. What a trooper, we didn’t expect her to wake up so early.”

Leo opened her eyes, feeling dozy. “Hello?”

“Hello, Leona, I’m Dr. Alvarez. Do you know what day it is?”

“April 11th.” Leo rubbed her eye a bit. Her mind was already trying to piece together what had happened at the match. Had that Atleti girl’s leg come out on purpose? How injured was she? There was no pain in her leg. 

“Good. Can you wiggle your toes for me?” 

A weird request. Leo wiggled her toes, then looked down. No. Her left leg was bound in a big cast, her toes just peeking out from the tip. Leo wanted to feel panic, but she tried to hold back. She’d learn all the information first. 

“The player feels terrible, Leo.” Her mother’s voice now. Leo could see her father, also in the room. They’d come to watch the game. How horrible it must have been to watch what happened. 

“Does she?” Leo could care less about the player and how she was feeling. Her coach, Xavier, was also in the room. He’d know more about what was going on. He seemed to sense her thoughts, and came over. 

“Leo, honey, you’ve had surgery on your tibia, it’s been repaired with six pins.”

“How long will I be out for?” This was Leo’s worst nightmare. A break with surgery sounded like months and months sidelined. Her parents exchanged a look with the coach, a strained look like they knew something she didn’t.

“What’s going on?”

“This is not a decision anyone wants to make in their career, ever, Leo. We’ve had calls with the board, with staff doctors, while you were in surgery. We’ve talked with your parents. This hurts all of us. You are an amazing young talent.”

Leo felt tears come to her eyes. “Please, just tell me what’s going on.”

“We’re letting your contract go at the end of the season. We’ve had to make this call for your own health and well-being. You are so young, so very young, and we need to make the decision to end this before an injury cripples you for life. All throughout your years training with the club as a child, we had hoped and prayed for you, that your muscle and bone sensitivities would start to do better. Your bone mass is still poor, Leo, even after all the hormones to make you taller and stronger. We all are here for you, and hope you will still accept your award for top goalscorer at the end of the season. But it’s time to find a bright future for you in something else.”

It felt like the floor had just broken underneath Leo and she was falling, down a hole that didn’t have a bottom. The light at the top of the hole was slowly getting smaller. Smaller and smaller and smaller. All her league wins, her Champions League cups, everything she’d ever fucking dreamed of in her life. Nobody would know her name. Nobody would cheer for her. She’d be a blip on Barcelona’s vast history. Worse than a blip, because she was a woman. And perhaps worst of all, this had all been for nothing. Her family had spent every last dime they had getting her the best care in the world so she could be something for them, make them proud, buy her parents and each of her siblings houses, and now she had nothing. 

“GET OUT!” Leo shouted, tears still streaming down her face. She reached for something to throw, finding a plastic cup on the bedstand. She threw it in the direction of Xavier, missing if only because her crying blurred her vision. “EVERYBODY GET OUT OF HERE NOW!”

~

“You want me to do what?” Neymar frowned. Leo had left to go sulk by herself for a few hours following their meeting after Geri had reamed her out, but it hadn’t taken her too long to make her reappearance. Geri had challenged her to come up with a plan, and Neymar hadn’t expected any such plan for at least a few days, but here she was. 

“Giroud likes you. Honey, you are truly the key to this, you could help all of us. I mean, if he shows you any drugs or anything, run for the fucking hills and tell me, but we really just need to catch him in a confession.”

“He doesn’t like me, Leo. I annoy him terribly.” Neymar felt fretful. This didn’t feel right and it felt almost cheap of Leo. She wanted Neymar to flirt with Giroud, trap him. Neymar didn’t know how Leo expected to catch a verbal confession that could be passed on and believed to Enrique, but she supposed Leo was working on that. 

“Oh, hon, he likes you better than all of us. He knows you don’t wear a bra.” Leo sucked on the popsicle she’d bought out of the vending machine, looking nonchalant. 

“So you’re whoring me out? Leo!” Neymar felt hurt. 

“God, no, no, baby. And I mean, it’s your choice. I’m just saying, see if he’s susceptible to talking to you. I think he would be. Go really easy, don’t press any issues. Just make him relaxed.”

Neymar pouted. It still sounded like she was being whored out. 

“Don’t do it, then, if you don’t want. I just thought you were perfect for it. I thought about everyone I knew. I thought about myself.”

“Why me?”

“Because everyone knows you’re sweet and gentle. Okay, like, someone like Marta or Ivana are sweet too, but like, Giroud would never trust Marta in her life because of Sabi, and Ivana, I don’t know. She’s too political, I feel Giroud knows that. She’s really righteous. Like, Ney, I know you have guts, lots of guts, but he doesn’t know that.”

Neymar considered this. She’d poke Leo, see how willing she was to have her do it. “Can I have the rest of that popsicle?”

Leo handed it over, lookingly slightly amused. 

“I’m not gonna sleep with him or anything.”

“I would never expect you to. Every male guard in here is a fucking pig.”

“Masche isn’t that bad.” Neymar gave the popsicle a long, slow lick, blinking languidly at Leo to drive her a bit batty. 

Leo shrugged, although her eyes were drifting to Neymar’s mouth to watch it suck the popsicle. “Just try and make a little nice, tell me if Giroud bites at all.”

~

~São Paulo, Brazil, eight years earlier~

Neymar pulled on the big fluffy pink fur coat, looking dubious. The weather wasn’t too bad, and she shouldn’t be too hot to wear, but it was ugly. Bruno had promised that she needed to fit right in with the rest of the girls and needed to dress the part, but Neymar felt nervous of any party where the girls were all dressed in tiny shorts with gems on them and bathing suit tops with pink fur coats. 

The entire community, including her own family, had been positive about Neymar attending the party, although they said they’d go out looking for her if she wasn’t back by one in the morning. A curfew that Neymar was more than willing to abide to. Bruno and his friends in their fancy sports cars were the most nerve-wracking people she’d ever encountered in her life, and that included every soldier prowling the favela with their big guns. But everyone, especially her father, were convinced that this could lead to wealth, at least in the short term. They’d brought shoes that were worth more than they could possibly imagine. What else could Bruno bring?

Neymar wasn’t so sure. Bruno gave her the creeps a bit, and it felt like the community was using her. Bruno liked her, so they wanted to use her to get more money. It made Neymar’s skin crawl. She wondered how much God was judging her for it, how much God was judging the people she loved too. Maybe He wouldn’t. Maybe He realized they needed the help. Neymar wanted to help. She wanted the kids she knew to have new shoes, for everyone to eat well. But this just didn’t seem right. 

“Are you done, sweetheart? I know we’re fashionably late, but much more and we’re pushing it.” Bruno looked at his big, expensive watch. Neymar had changed in the car, parked a short distance away from the sprawling mansion that had lines of expensive cars snaking up to it, parked along the edge. Neymar felt sick. She didn’t belong here. 

“I’m done. Remember, I have to be home by one. Not leave at one. Home by one.” Neymar tried to gauge everything Bruno said for sinister behaviour. She couldn’t exactly read any yet, but she was reserving positive judgment. She would hold his motives guilty until he proved to her he was innocent. He could trap her, whisk her away right away. And no matter how hard her family looked, she could never be found. São Paulo was so very big. Brazil was even bigger. 

“Yes, yes, I remember. I will make an excuse.” Bruno held out his arm for Neymar to take. 

“This coat is hot and ugly.”

“It’s high fashion, my little firecracker.”

High fashion was tacky, Neymar decided. But she didn’t say so. Instead she nodded and let Bruno lead her up to the mansion. She was expecting herself, for some reason, to look out of place, but she supposed Bruno really was right. There were thin girls all over, mostly white girls, wearing very little clothing, and the clothing they were wearing was indeed like hers, bright colours and jewels. For such a nice mansion, Neymar was expecting high-class people, but these people were all drunk and dancing, pushing each other into the big pool in the centre of the main grounds, surrounded by palm trees. Neymar noticed there were people everywhere smoking, and certainly not all of them were smoking cigarettes, and there were more doing lines of drugs off tables. There was one doing a line of something off a girl’s tummy. Neymar felt her hand grip Bruno’s hand tighter. 

“Do you want a drink, Neymar?” Bruno was acting as if this was normal. 

“No.” Neymar frowned. What would God think?

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.” Bruno approached some white men, dressed in tacky leather jackets printed with floral patterns on the back. 

“Hey man, where’d you get this bitch?” One of them stumbled a bit, already drunk. Neymar was appalled. 

“I am not a bitch!” Neymar immediately went forwards towards the man. Her impetuousness getting the better of her. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Neymar, it just means woman.”

Not in Neymar’s books it did.

“Lads, this is her first party with the gang. Go easy on her.”

“What is she, you fucking ass? Sixteen?”

Neymar felt uncomfortable. She was sixteen. Bruno had made no passes for even a kiss, but someone else pointing out this proved to her that she had a right to feel squeamish. 

“Don’t worry about it. She’s great, she’s going to fit right in with the girls."

~

~Vueling Airlines plane, on route from Cardiff to Barcelona, two years ago~

“What are you thinking, babe?” Gwen rubbed Chibuzo’s arm a bit. The strain on the plane was getting a bit much. Chibuzo had talked a little bit, but for most of the flight so far, she’d sat, deep in thought, or so it seemed, staring out the window. 

“Oh, nothing. I’m just sleepy from getting up early today.”

“Alright.” Gwen wasn’t too sure it was alright, but Chibuzo didn’t seem mad, exactly, or anything, so maybe she was just tired. 

They’d bought the tickets in March, and now it was the beginning of August. Ages. Gwen supposed it was coming on their one-year anniversary shortly, although things had been a touch strained as of late. Chibuzo was growing irritated at how much Gwen lied to her family, and maybe she had a right to. Gwen did lie a lot. She felt awful sick at how her parents would react to her being gay, so she made excuses. It was one thing lying at school, hidden away from her folks, but it was harder to hide now that Chibuzo was coming over to her house sometimes. They’d had a few fights, Gwen on one side saying she wasn’t ready to do that and she was being pushed out of the closet against her will, and Chibuzo on one side saying she hated being a part of a lie and she was frustrated that Gwen still hadn’t learned to love herself yet. Valid points. It made Gwen feel worse, a bit, about it. 

But despite Gwen’s apprehensions about everything, there they were, off to visit Spain like she’d promised Chibuzo. The send-off that morning with her parents had been just a little awkward, but not too bad, so she wondered what was on her mind. 

“Are you worried about flying, or something? You’ve flown loads. This is my first flight. It’s kinda fun.”

“No, I like flying.” Chibuzo didn’t look over, although she did reach over and pat Gwen’s knee. Gwen took her hand. “I suppose I’m just a little nervous, I always get this way with trips.”

“But you fly all the time. You shouldn’t.” Gwen laughed a tiny bit, trying to lighten the mounting tension. This was so bizarre. There was no reason for the tension to exist, but it did. Gwen suddenly felt all the more anxious about their trip. She’d hyped herself up about it for months, to the point where she was almost okay with the idea. Now she wasn’t so sure. 

~

“I’m just saying, there’s no sense holding our heads in the sand, we have to move on, we have to grow up, we need to pick a new leader!” Pepa was talking and talking, thrusting her hand out over and over like a politician giving an impassioned speech. Gwen knew what she was saying, but she certainly wasn’t internalizing it. She sat in silence between Luka and Cris, head tipped down. She had nothing to say. 

“You’ve been in and out of prison for ages, Pep, why not you?” Toni scoffed, leaning backwards in her rickety plastic chair. 

“Oh, fuck no.”

“Why the fuck not!”

“Shut up, or the two of you will go on an endless fucking loop of that.” Jamie snapped. “I’m just saying now, I’m not fucking doing it. I’m not a leader and that’s that.”

“Just say it’s Gwen, she was Ramos’ successor and we all know it.” Toni leaned back further. Gwen suddenly wished she’d fall all the way backwards. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her as if she’s dead!” Gwen heard herself snarl out of her curtain of hair. 

“So she does have a voice after all.”

“Hey, hey now,” Luka got up, almost to get herself in the way between Gwen and Toni as if something were about to happen. “We’re all feeling messed up right now. She’s not ready and we all know Gwen isn’t going to be the type of person to fight others when there’s issues.”

“You wanna do it then, Modric?” Toni took a little ball of paper out of her pocket and tossed it up in the air, catching it. She always had an endless supply of little pieces of crap garbage in her pocket to fiddle with.

“Well…no. I’m too new. I’ve got a bit of experience being a voice but I don’t think I’m the right person.”

“So that leaves Ronaldo or Dani. Fuckin’ fantastic.”

“Not it.” Dani snapped. That was enough for Gwen. Why the fuck were they fighting about this now? It didn’t matter, it didn’t fucking matter. Sabina was gone. That was what mattered. They were all in there moving on so fucking fast. Gwen got up and walked out of the recreation room, not interested in seeing if anyone would follow. She wanted her bed. She wanted her bed back in her old room with Sabina. Now she had neither of those things. Her bed now felt foreign and terrible, but it was the only place she could think of that was hers, so she flopped on it, face down into the pillow. 

There was a gentle knocking on the edge of the cement half-wall separating each room. Gwen tried to lift her head, but it was too much effort, so she kept it down. Maybe the person, likely Luka or Cris, would just go away. Instead, she felt a body crouch beside her low bed and put a hand on her back. 

“Hey Bale? I’ve got something for you.”

Gwen turned her head. It was Pique, staring at her carefully with her bright blue eyes. 

“Uh huh?”

“These are Ramos’ pictures of her kid out of her frames. They were taking her stuff away earlier today. She’s…she’s going to want them back when you see her again. I’ve got a few things her kid made too. I think they’re birthday and Christmas cards. Keep ‘em safe for her.”

Gwen sat up and took the pile. Pique was the only one that said she’d see Sabina again, and she wondered if she meant it. Her voice was practically a whisper from all the crying over the past night and day, but she tried anyway. “Thank you.”

“She brought out the best in you, turned you into a pretty tough and open kid.” Pique put her hand on Gwen’s shoulder and shook it a little, then got up. 

“Why do you seem to always know the right thing to say?” Gwen had never liked Pique, because Sabina had always told her that Pique was the devil. But ever since Sabina had hit her and she’d sat down with her instead, Gwen had noticed that Pique was really two different people. There was the Pique that screamed and yelled and flung her hands around, her voice carrying above everyone else, but there was a Pique that sat down, listened with intense eyes and tried to give thoughtful, real answers to questions. 

She only shrugged. “Your whiteboard says you’ve got to call your folks at 4:30 today, it’s almost that time, you remember?”

Shit. Gwen had remembered yesterday. Gwen flew out of bed. “I’m going, I’m going!”

Gwen rushed through the prison, praying there was a phone not in use. She needed her mother and father now more than ever and she would not scare them either by missing the call. 

Thankfully, nobody at all was actually hanging off the phone. Maybe nobody was in a chatty mood today. Gwen seized the phone and dialled the extension, waiting anxiously while she waited for her parents to accept the collect call. 

“Hi, Gwenny?”

“Mummy.” Just hearing her mother’s voice was too much. Gwen burst into tears again, wracking sobs like she’d endured right after the horrible moment yesterday.   
“Love, love, what’s going on?” There was sudden great panic and fear in Gwen’s mother’s voice. 

“Sabina’s left, taken to max, took her away yesterday. Mummy, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what to do. She protected me, loved me. I’ve never had a friend like her in my life.”

There was quiet on the other end of the phone, the sound of her mother sucking some air in and expelling it. The mumble of her father in the background asking what was wrong. “Oh love. I’m so sorry.”

“I needed her so bad. I needed someone to tell me I’m not a piece of shit, that I can take this time in prison and use it to fix my life. But she couldn’t even fix her own.”

“Why was she taken, love?”

Gwen kept crying, trying hard to answer, but choking for breath. 

“Deep breath. You are strong, my girl. Frank, here, get on the phone. Your father’s coming to speak to you, don’t worry, Gwen, don’t worry. Please, don’t fade on us, you have to be strong, okay?” Her mother’s tone had become more panicked. Gwen knew how afraid they were for their child’s sensitive spirit as they kept talking, saying she needed to find strength and hold onto it. Their child had landed herself in prison because she was fucking weak, the very worst at holding herself together and believing in herself. If she kept going at the rate she was, she knew they were afraid they’d lose her altogether. They started to race out sentences of encouragement when the two minute warning on the phone went off. 

“I love you mummy, daddy, okay? I promise I’ll call next month, same time, okay? I promise I will, I promise you’ll hear from me next month. I love you, I love Vicky and the kids, I love you.” The timer ended and the phone line went dead. Gwen felt a new moment of dread and terror. She’d ended every call in tears, but a warm hug from Sabina. Sabina was always there to hold Gwen to her chest. Where was she meant to go now?

“Hey, come here, you.”

Gwen went towards the voice and clutched at the body that had called her over, not caring who she was hugging. It could be Pique for all she cared. Instead, she looked up to see Luka.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neymar finds herself in an interesting situation, Leo tries something different, and Gwen tries to come to terms with the loss of Ramos from her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I've been just a little bit slow writing this chapter (it is a touch longer, but mostly, I've been busy with work!).
> 
> Thanks for your patience and let me know if there's anything you want more of!

So, it was to be Ronaldo as the new leader. Leo sighed to herself and stared at herself in the mirror. Ronaldo would be a better group leader than she looked, Leo had decided. She had a lot of guts and spark and she’d step up to the challenge. 

Leo wasn’t so sure she was, herself, anymore. She was fucking tired. What was she doing with herself? Sending her girlfriend to do her job for her? Sitting around feeling sorry for herself? She’d never been this way before. Even when she had reached the very worse point in her life when she’d broken her leg, she’d gotten right back up and been stronger for it. 

But maybe there was nothing left that she could do to pick herself back up. She’d tried for awhile in prison, to still be the strongest she could, to get her way like she always did, but there didn’t seem to be a way to break the pattern. A fresh start was needed, she supposed, because that had always worked in the past, but there wasn’t really a fresh start to be had in prison. Everyone was trapped with you, doing the same, mindless thing every day. 

Or, the more Leo looked at herself in the mirror, maybe there was one thing she could do different. It wasn’t worth much, and it wouldn’t change her life spectacularly, but it would be a change. Leo had had some questionable haircuts over the years, especially when she was young and playing football. Nothing like shaved sides or any sort of crazy look, but she’d had strange bangs, bad use of headbands, and so on. She’d gotten used to her haircut for a long time, always the same, fairly long and wavy, but tidy, parted just slightly to one side. It was a safe, clean haircut, feminine enough but not outrageous. She looked like a proper adult, even if a bit of a boring one. Leo knew she had a bit of a boring exterior, only interesting and wild when her penchant for ink was on display. She could make herself more interesting and exciting on the outside, and if she could get everyone to believe it, then maybe it would be true. 

Leo zipped up her little makeup bag. This little experiment had been a bit of an embarrassment. There wasn’t a lot of makeup in the bag, just a bit of the simple stuff from the commissary, but Leo almost never wore it. Today’s attempt to apply it had been less than satisfactory to pep herself up. In fact, it had looked ludicrous on her, and she’d wiped it all off. She wondered how busy Marta was at the moment, although she was sure Marta could make the time for her. She would have to. Leo would make sure of it. 

Marta was sitting and reading one of the old magazines in her styling chair, while Rafa was blow-drying one of the women from the Brazilian table’s hair. It was loud and grating, and Leo wondered how Marta or Rafa could stand being in the salon every day. 

“Marta?”

Marta flipped the magazine downward a bit. “Hey, Leo. How’re you doing, babe?”

“Fine. Heard from Sabi lately?”

“She wrote me a letter. She says it’s harder work than she thought being in there but she’s trying her best. She said it’s not like prison, but they do have a schedule, everyone has to help with meals, things like that.” Marta trailed off, likely because Leo was no longer listening and Marta could probably tell. Leo had really only asked to be polite. Sabi was a good soul, but Leo didn’t want to dwell on her leaving. 

“Mmm, good. So, anyway, Marta. I’ve got this idea, and I need your help. You’ve got hair dye here, right?”

“It costs more, but yeah, we have some. What did you have in mind?”

~

~Barcelona, Spain, two years earlier~

Leo took a sip of her lemonade. She knew she was daydreaming, adrift in a gentle wave of football thoughts. She hated these meetings. She only attended them because she had to, but really, she’d rather be back at home resting and watching some TV, or even out playing on her pitch. 

She truly was just there as a figurehead at the table. Endless talks of money bored Leo to tears, but all these people, these investors and so on that managed her money, they wanted her there for her official confirmation that what they were doing with her money was okay. Leo couldn’t care less. She signed off on everything that was handed to her, although it wasn’t out of stupidity. They had done a healthy job at taking Leo’s meager earnings from her one successful year at FC Barcelona, and blown it up spectacularly. She didn’t know exactly how all the money had duplicated so quickly, but whatever they did, it was working. Her father had helped her to start as a kid, to get it invested, and Leo had watched it snowball into millions of dollars. It didn’t fill every void, but it filled one. Leo had immediately purchased her family a home, one weight off her chest. After that, she had run amok with her money, but it never seemed to run out. Leo had purchased herself a mansion tucked away past the suburbs of Barcelona, built herself a half-sized pitch on the grounds, and hid away. Leo knew she was lonely. She went to parties sometimes, events drenched in other millionaires and supermodels, and she’d bring girls home sometimes, but in the morning, they would leave, and Leo would be left to her own quiet devices. Not that she minded fully. It was nice to have peace. The roar of a football stadium was the only noise she truly liked. Sometimes the paparazzi would take her picture, if for no other reason than they liked to take photos of socialites coming out of parties while tipsy. It overwhelmed Leo that there were people living in Spain that might recognize her for doing nothing of value, but for the most part, she was just part of spreads of other rich folks. 

“Leona?”

“Mmm?” Leo looked up from where she was staring at the plastic cup. It was a warm room, and the outside of the cup was perspiring something terrible.

“Are we in agreement? It’s best if we move these funds to accumulate with the rest in Panama.”

Leo nodded. Her investors put a lot of her money into a business in Panama. Leo didn’t know a damn thing about it, or what the business did, but that’s where a big chunk of her money went, so that was that. They’d been doing it for years. 

“Are we done here, then? I’d love to go home, not that this hasn’t been fun.” Leo flipped her sunglasses down from her head and stood up. She wasn’t dressed for a business meeting, even. Instead, she had a velvet miniskirt on, one that screamed the 1980s, but Leo happened to like that sort of fashion. She wasn’t just bound to sports clothes like a lot of other athletes, if she could even count herself as an athlete anymore. 

There was a bit of a rustle as some papers were handed to Leo to sign, before she got up and marched down the hall of the vast office space. Some accounting firm. Leo wondered how much of it she owned. Her Range Rover was waiting in the parking garage, and Leo considered if she should stop for a burger on her way home. Leo was bad that way. For all her ridiculous wealth, her diamond choker and fancy car, and so on, she had a terrible penchant for very simple, boring food. She was often happy with just dulce de leche on crackers at home, but she too often went through the drive-thru for rubbish fast food. Oh well. At least it gave the drive-thru worker a surprise when she pulled up to the window. 

~

“Girl, I don’t get why you fucking do all of this for her. I don’t. I’m sorry if I’m being blunt, but I don’t get it.” Rafa tapped her feet, looking highly impatient. 

“She hasn’t asked me to do anything all that bad.” Neymar felt guilty. Rafa was usually right when she chastised her for something. Neymar tried so hard to have a moral compass, to listen to God, but Rafa was always there, reminding her of just where she was going wrong. A better moral compass, Neymar supposed. 

“She’s throwing you to the wolves. She’s asking you to get involved with that man, the man that caused a death, an inmate sent to max, and three to solitary.”

That was an exaggeration. Maria had hit Ozil all on her own, and Neymar was dubious that Giroud had murdered Ozil, although she supposed Rafa had a point. 

“Look, she said just be nice to him, she said to back right off if he started to get funny.”

“She’s putting a target on your head. Why do you still fucking go out with her? She’s hurt both you and Kun how many times?”

Neymar scowled. Rafa didn’t understand Leo. Leo was a spoiled, complicated woman, certainly, but that just made it more special when you could strip those parts of her away, have the Leo that loved and cared and wanted to do things for you. Neymar was sure Leo would find a way to make all this up to her. 

“Okay, look. Neymar, we’re like sisters in here, I don’t want to see you get hurt. Let me be involved in this. Let me help you. You don’t have to tell Leo, if you think that would piss her off. Let me be your wingman.” Rafa chewed on her nail slightly. “Leo came in for a haircut or something, by the way. I left before I saw what was going on.”

“She wouldn’t get a haircut, she loves long hair. Leo has a hair kink.”

Rafa burst out laughing. “BYE.”

“Whatever, whatever, Rafa. Look, there’s Giroud now, if you want to help, just linger around, okay? Why don’t I say, like, “oranges,” if I need help? Go around the corner, make yourself scarce”

“Oranges?”

“It was the first word that came into my head!” Neymar flung her hands in the air, irritated. Rafa truly was like a sister, but like all sisters, they could get annoying. Giroud heard the shouting and looked up from his aimless wandering, and Neymar supposed the time was now. 

“Hello Señor Giroud!” Neymar waved, feeling a pang of worry. This was the right thing to do, it had to be. It would make Leo happy, it would help everyone in the prison. Maybe it would bring down a wicked man. That couldn’t be sinful. 

“Da Silva.” Giroud nodded, looking stern and unmoving, like he always did.

“I’ve told you, everyone calls me Neymar. I’m a one-namer, like Beyonce or Cher.”

Giroud laughed a little bit. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”

“You know I’m right. I’m pretty sure my dad made my name up. I’m the one and only Neymar.”

“Well, da Silva, you’ve given me a smile.”

“Oh, I hope I do, sir.” Neymar considered mentioning what a troubled time it had been in the prison, but decided against it. Don’t bring attention to Ramos and the drugs yet. Much too early. He wasn’t broken in yet.

“I would say you are indeed one-of-a-kind, Neymar. A special beauty.”

Neymar stared carefully at Giroud. He had a thick beard and a handsome haircut. Piercing eyes. Neymar wished she didn’t have such a thing for white boys. He was so very nice to look at it, and it was terrible because she knew he was so wicked. 

“Neymar?”

“You see how you’ve used my name twice now, Señor Giroud? It isn’t so hard. I bet many things are much harder.”

An uncomfortable silence hung between them after the comment. Neymar cringed at herself. She had better lines than that. Giroud was looking lustily at her whole body now. What was it with the guards in this prison? Did they want to fuck everyone? 

“Señor Giroud…”

Another moment of silence, before Neymar reached up and planted a kiss on Giroud. She had to be out of her mind for doing this. She’d not wanted to touch him originally, told Leo he wouldn’t fuck her, and yet here she was, suddenly overcome with this desperate need to. It’s not that she wasn’t getting any love from Leo at all, and Neymar couldn’t understand herself. Why was she like this? Why did she go against God so fucking much? 

Giroud was now pushing his face into her neck, rubbing it with his rough beard while he kissed down her shoulder. He smelled good, like mid-range cologne and laundry detergent. Neymar looked around for somewhere they could duck into. She knew Rafa would be watching, shaking her head and judging her something terrible, but she would protect her on the one side. Someone could come around from the other side any time. Neymar spotted the janitor closet. It was the same one that she knew Kun had been assaulted in, and thank God it wasn’t the one that Ozil had been found dead in. It would do. Neymar flung it open and gestured with her shoulder for him to get inside, which he obediently did. 

“Why the hell are you all horny bastards? I should smack you silly. I should turn you in. Other guards have had the same fate.”

“I am your superior, Neymar, and you want to smack me? This could be our little secret. I see you, I see how you walk around with your bouncy, beautiful chest of yours.”

“I have a girlfriend.”

“That midget woman with the bad attitude? Yeah, I see her. And I see how much more you want out of that.”

That stung, even if it was Neymar feeling hurt and angry on Leo’s behalf. Neymar didn’t know much, but she knew enough to know that word was offensive, to know that Leo had fought and suffered as a kid to even be as tall as she was. Neymar found herself reaching up and slapping Giroud anyway. He stepped back, startled, bumping into the door of the closet. 

“You want to do this, Señor Giroud? Here, on your knees.” Neymar pulled down the elastic waistband of her pants. She nearly never bothered to wear the ugly granny underpants unless it was her period, and today was no different. Giroud continued to look astounded. 

“All your men in here want to use us as your toys. I’m not against having fun, but I think I deserve a little bit of fun too. I mean it. You want to have fun with me right now, then you don’t get to lord it over me as my superior later. You don’t get to lord it over me right now.”

Giroud dropped to his knees, taking hold of Neymar’s legs and spreading them. Neymar leaned back against the little work bench and relaxed. She didn’t like that the beard felt scratchier than she was expecting, especially since she shaved and didn’t have anything to block it with, but she didn’t care. Giroud worked his tongue with extra zeal to make up for it, and Neymar let herself make a few gentle moans. 

“I won’t give you away, Señor Giroud, ohhhh, this is so nice.” Neymar let off more noises, refusing to be loud but making them as pornographic as she could in his ear. This could work. She could get what she needed for Leo, and get a little something for herself. She’d buy some coconut oil at the commissary though, if they had it. Giroud really needed some to make his beard softer. He’d moved lower, poking his tongue into Neymar, and it felt nice, but she could feel an invisible alarm clock ticking, one that Rafa could only keep from going off for so long. She’d help him out. Neymar frantically rubbed herself, feeling that sharp rush to her head and to her lower region as she came. Neymar always knew how to get herself to come in minutes flat. Leo was a good lover, Neymar couldn’t disagree with that, but Leo liked to take thing slow. Neymar didn’t have the time or patience for it. Getting eaten out felt good, but it was too slow and not enough force for Neymar to usually come from it. 

“We should go, Señor Giroud. Thank you, I had a nice time. I’m sorry for slapping you.”

“I won’t tell, if you don’t tell.”

“No telling.” Neymar mimed zipping her mouth shut. “I’m going to go now, you go the opposite way from me, alright?”

“Still trying to tell me what to do?”

“No, sir.” Neymar hiked her pants up and poked her head out of the closet. Coast was still clear. Rafa was doing her job, although she was probably hating Neymar for it. Neymar slipped out and turned the corner.

“Okay, let’s go, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“What the fuck happened, Ney? I was terrified. I wanted to get Masche and break the door down. What happened? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. I slapped him for calling Leo a bad name and then he ate me out. It’s all very complicated. Don’t tell her.”

“Neymar, are you fucking kidding me?”

“No—“ Neymar was about to say more, but striding down the hall came Leo, head held high, a look of quiet pride on her face. Her entire head was bleach blonde. 

~

~São Paulo, Brazil, eight years earlier~

“I’m tired, Bruno. I wanna go, can we please go?” Neymar knew she was whining something terrible. Her feet ached in the little strappy heels they were in, and Neymar was only making it worse by stomping her feet on the floor of the sports car. It had been a terrible night and Neymar wanted to just rip the shoes off. Bruno barely seemed to notice. 

“I’m meeting up with my buddy Tito, soon, Neymar, okay? Oh, for heavens sakes, Neymar. We just have a few things we need to do, a few chores, and then we’re done.”

Neymar tried to hold tears in. She’d gone back to the favela today. They’d asked for more money, but Neymar had given all she had. Bruno yelled at her whenever she tried to give the fancy clothes away, or sell them, but that was the best way to give money back to the community. Neymar was starting to feel unwelcome at the favela. They yelled at her too much, said she spent too much time away from them with Bruno. Then Bruno would go and yell at her again too, although he’d buy her more presents after. 

“Can we just go to your place, after? Can I sleep on your couch?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Neymar. You can sleep in my bed. Ayyyyyyyye, there he is! Tito, my man!” Bruno stood up in the stupid car and gave him a handshake. Neymar flinched. Tito was giving her bad vibes and she didn’t know why. 

“I’m going to just get in the backseat.” Neymar got up and climbed into the backseat. Tito ignored her and got into the front seat immediately, which was rude. Neymar fiddled with the fuzzy edge of her suede coat. It was a warm night, but the outfit completed the look. She did like this jacket, it was soft and tan and matched everything. That being said, it could feed her family for a few months, but Neymar tried to push that guilt aside. 

“We just have to make two stops, Ney-Ney, then we’ll go back to mine.” Bruno smiled and reached behind him as he started the car back up, looking for her hand. Neymar took it, just to please him. Bruno was being so irritable tonight. 

Bruno drove all across the damn city, it seemed, down to a big industrial area full of warehouses, chatting lightly with both of them, but mostly with Tito. Neymar wished it was one of Bruno’s friends that she recognized. They were nicer to her. They pulled over at the back of a dark warehouse, leaping out without paying attention to Neymar and swinging around to the back of one. They were back shortly, lugging something in a black bag. It seemed very, very heavy, and Neymar tried to straighten up and look forward. It couldn’t be what she thought it was. Bruno wouldn’t do that. He got into a lot of mischief but he wouldn’t do that. They were laughing, as they hauled the thing into the trunk and slammed the hood shut. The thing made a dull, unhappy thud, but Neymar refused to look forward, to look at Bruno or Tito.

“Okay, chore one done, Ney, just one more and we’re good to go, okay?”

“Yup, mmhmm. Good.” Neymar reached to bite her finger, but was only met with hard acrylic. Bruno had her go and get a manicure early on in their courtship, and now she had to have fake nails all the time. They were long, pointy claws, and usually, they did make Neymar feel more fearless. Not tonight though. 

Bruno backtracked across town until they reached the Billings Reservoir. No. Not water. Neymar knew what they were doing now, for sure. There was a body in the trunk, a body of some poor, helpless person almost right next to Neymar, even if separated by a wall of metal and some seats. 

“See, almost done, Neymar. Just hang tight in the car, okay? Me and Tito are going to be right back.”

Neymar didn’t know if she nodded in response or not. Bruno and Tito took the body back out of the car and dragged it towards the reservoir. Neymar tipped her head up at the sky. The moon was out, looking soft and beautiful, surrounded by a light sprinkling of stars. 

“Oh Lord, Jesus Christ, Redeemer and Saviour, forgive my sins, just as You forgave Peter's denial and those who crucified You. Count not my transgressions, but, rather, my tears of repentance. Remember not my iniquities, but, more especially, my sorrow for the offenses I have committed against You. I long to be true to Your Word, and pray that You will love me and come to make Your dwelling place within me. I promise to give You praise and glory in love and in service all the days of my life.”

~

“You never saw Ramos with a soft side, really. These pictures are really weird to see.” 

“She’s pretty complicated.” Gwen put down the picture. It was the only one of Sabina and Sergio together. The rest were solo photos of Sergio, pictures that Marco had sent on major holidays. But the picture of Sabina and Sergio gave Gwen pains in her chest every time she looked at it. It was a simple shot, a picture of Sabina standing straight and looking at the camera while she held baby Sergio with one arm. She was in jeans that were an awkward, mommish boot-cut, and an Iron Maiden t-shirt, a smile lingering on her lips while she tried to look serious. That was the real Sabina, right there. A contradiction between harsh and gentle. It was so strange, too, to see her in clothing that wasn’t prison garb. A weird, faint snapshot into Sabina’s life outside of prison. Gwen felt herself well up again, although she didn’t mean to.

Luka gathered up the pictures and put them back under Gwen’s mattress. “Hey, come on, I have something for you.”

“You’re trying to distract me from crying again.” Gwen got up to follow. She was glad Luka was still staying close to her. She hadn’t had a bath in ten days and she was probably rank as all hell. Everything seemed like so, so much effort, and one of the most daunting tasks was the loud, raucous hordes of naked women every morning. Gwen was trying to go brush her teeth after breakfast once the bathrooms were quiet, and at night, so at least her breath wasn’t bad, but the rest of her had to be awful. She could kind of tell it was. 

“No, actually. Here, come with me.” Luka took Gwen’s hand, leading her through the prison, right through the kitchen to the back doors. The loading dock. 

“Why are we here? Are you hiding food, Luka?”

“No, just hang on.” Luka started digging through some empty milk crates dumped on the ground, kicking them with her feet. Gwen jumped off the loading dock and sat on the ground, leaning her head against the wall. Gwen knew Sabina and Giroud had gone out here and talked a lot, smoked. Now she knew what they were talking about, and it felt weird and almost painful to be out here. 

“Here.” Luka came over, a package of cigarettes and a lighter in her hand.

“Aren’t those Giroud’s?”

“Yeah, they are. Here, take one.” Luka tapped one out of the pack for herself and lit it, taking a drag herself.

“I didn’t know you smoked. I don’t, anyway.” Gwen waved the pack of cigarettes away. 

“I don’t, really. I’ve smoked a buttload of weed in my day, though. I thought it would remind you of her, if you had one of her cigs. Anyway, nicotine is good at chilling you out.”

“You’re a bad influence.” Gwen took the cigarette, wondering if she would feel some innate connection to Sabina. The first drag made her cough and sputter uncontrollably, and Gwen pulled it away. 

“Give it another go, although don’t force it if it’s too nasty.” Luka nodded her head along a bit to the music playing from the kitchen. They had an old radio in there, and they liked to blast it, even if it was just shitty Spanish pop music from whatever the local radio station was. Gwen used to like it when she realized she knew what the words meant in the songs, but now they were just as annoying as pop music in England. 

“I’m such a wreck, Luka. I am such a colossal fuck up.”

“Give yourself a break.”

“You don’t know what I did, Luka. I’ve been riding out this whole time covering up how fucking weak I am. Now that Sabina’s gone, it’s like the rug’s been pulled out from under me and I’m as emotionally frail as I was when I was arrested. Like my peppiness was all just a charade.”

“Didn’t you say no to your parole? That’s strong as hell. I don’t care what you did, if I was in your shoes, I would have leapt up in an instant at the chance to get out of here. You came here and learned a new language, from scratch with no lessons, too.”

Gwen nodded a bit, attempting a second drag at the cigarette. She supposed Luka was right on those two fronts. “I came out to my folks the day I was arrested. I don’t think I was ready to, but I had to tell them. Not the greatest phone call they’ve ever received. I’ve…I’ve been trying to live more authentically in here, but, I don’t know. Now I feel like I hadn’t been, exactly, like I was in worse shape than even I thought.”

Luka nodded, staring at Gwen like she was listening very hard. Gwen pushed her hair out of her face a bit. 

“I’ve backslid, Luka. My ex-girlfriend told me once that she wanted to see my face, because people ought to see my face, so I always wear my hair up. Now it doesn’t matter.”

Luka stayed silent, quietly bobbing her head in time with the music. “Hey, Gwen, it’s an English song.”

It was. Gwen couldn’t believe her ears. The song had to be a joke, put on for some reason she wasn’t aware. It was that awful song that was so pervasively popular in Western pop culture, All Star by Smashmouth. The one from Shrek that everyone loved to joke about. A curious meme from years ago. Gwen remembered the amount of jokes about the song she used to see on Twitter. 

“The fuck?”

“This is really catchy, Gwen.” Luka got up and started dancing in the loading dock, trying to look as foolish as possible. 

“You’re being a huge dork.” Gwen smiled a little bit. 

“A dork who you think is funny. Come on, come dance with me.”

“I’m not dancing to the Shrek song.”

“THAT’S where I know this song from!” Luka came over anyway and offered her hands. Gwen rolled her eyes and got up, dancing along with Luka a little bit. It was a little fun. Luka seemed to like to do dramatic, silly moves at first, twisting and grinding around like a thirteen-year-old at her first dance. Now, she was moving closer and closer to Gwen until they were dancing nearly up against each other. 

“Here, you need this more than me.” Luka took her hair tie out, shaking out her own hair out of its little pigtail. She reached around to Gwen’s long hair, rolling it into a quick half-bun to get it out of her face. 

“I…thanks, Luka.” Gwen blinked at Luka, now that her face was free from hair. It really was the perfect time for a kiss, if this were a movie. The scene would fade to black right after the kiss, a soft moment for everyone to swoon at in the theatre. Gwen wondered if she had the courage.

Then she remembered what Sabina had said. To take a chance on something, to take a chance on finding someone again. The song was shouting the same thing in her ear, the annoying Smash Mouth man blaring “You'll never know if you don't go, you'll never shine if you don't glow” in her ear. Sabina and Smash Mouth were right. She wouldn’t know if she didn’t at least fucking try. Gwen pulled Luka all the way in and gave her a kiss. 

~

~Barcelona, Spain, two years ago~

“I wish we’d had a chance to make it to the Bernabeu, when we were in Madrid, you know?” Gwen took a drink of her beer. Spanish beer tasted nice and light. The bars were nice too, she had to admit. Fun and bright and loud, but everyone was happy and bright, far into the night. 

“Oh, Gwen, stop whining about it, you’ve said a million times that you wished we could have gone. We don’t have time for everything!”

Gwen sat back, chastised. Chibuzo had been like this all day, harsh and unkind. She’d gotten consistently worse as the trip had gone on, actually. 

“I’m sorry. I just thought it was the thing I wanted to go to the most, you know?”

“There’s a big ass stadium here, we’ll drop by or something.” Chibuzo turned away from Gwen, slightly irritated sounding, as she took a sip of her fruity drink. 

“No, don’t worry about it, I don’t want to see Camp Nou, they’re not my team.”

“It’s all the same, isn’t it?” 

“No, not at—hey, what’s going on, babe?” Gwen tried to rub Chibuzo’s shoulder a little bit, make her turn back towards her. They’d slept together on their first night at the hotel, but after that, the sex had stopped so far on the vacation too. Not that they had to have sex, of course, but Gwen had genuinely figured that was part of the appeal of this trip, fun romps away from parents and friends in fun hotel rooms. 

Chibuzo made a noise, a cross between expelling air out of her nose and an “aggggh” sort of noise. It didn’t mean much. Gwen waited. 

“I don’t think we should have gone on this trip, Gwen.”

For fuck’s sakes. Gwen immediately felt angry. She didn’t usually. Gwen knew sadness and jealousy and resentment and all sorts of things, but pure anger did not come easy to her. Of course they shouldn’t have gone on this fucking trip. Gwen had tried to say so. She hadn’t wanted to go. She’d gotten a bit more excited as the trip had inched closer, but she still felt constantly anxious and afraid something would go wrong. 

“Why shouldn’t we have?”

“It feels…maybe too soon.”

“Oh, really?” Gwen put down her bottle of beer. Chibuzo was really going to do this. In the middle of a bar. In the middle of their vacation. 

“Like, I didn’t know what travelling with a partner was like, and, and…”

“I said we wouldn’t be ready in December. I said we wouldn’t be ready in March. I said we wouldn’t be ready.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I did!” Gwen knew she was raising her voice. She tried to get a grip of herself, calm down. 

“You minced around and seemed anxious about trips but you never made it about us.”

“Whenever I tried you started to sound really fucking insulted, Chibuzo! I was trying to be polite! I was trying to dissuade you out of it nicely!”

“You’re just a coward, Gwen! You’re a coward about going and living your life, you’re a coward about us! I want to just be with you. I know you lied about this trip, how you were going with your best gal pal or whatever to your parents! I hate only being your girlfriend on campus! I hate it!”

“I don’t know what they’ll think of me, Chibuzo!”

“Why does it matter what they think! Just be yourself! Just fuck what they think!”

“It doesn’t work that way! I love my family, I don’t want to lose them!” Gwen felt near to tears. Chibuzo stilled for a moment, suddenly looking quiet and sad. 

“I slept with someone else before we left.”

Gwen felt like she’d been kicked, hard. “What? W—who?”

“Does it matter? I was feeling a lot of stuff. I…I don’t know what I was looking for when I did it. I’ve been unhappy for a little while.”

Gwen stared at the counter of the bar. Everything hurt so bad. “You couldn’t have told me in five days when we’re back home?”

“I…I was going to.”

“This is over, Chibuzo. I…I can’t do this. I—“

Chibuzo got up, grabbing her purse. “I’m walking back to the hotel.”

Gwen could only nod. They were renting a car for the trip, a sort of cross-country sort of thing. Chibuzo couldn’t drive though, so it was up to Gwen. 

“Don’t come after me right now.” Chibuzo shoved her bar stool in and left. Gwen became painfully aware that she was now all alone, in a foreign country. Chibuzo traveled, she knew what she was doing. Gwen looked around a little bit at all the laughing Spaniards. So happy and carefree. They didn’t have stress. 

There was nothing left to do but order another beer. And another and another. It was pathetic to drink alone this much, but Gwen couldn’t even reach out for the conversation of another person. Even if she could, she knew herself. She’d be too shy to do so. 

The night wore on, and Gwen found herself checking her phone obsessively. Nothing. Chibuzo hadn’t even asked if she was okay. Gwen felt dizzy. Maybe it was all the beers. She didn’t know. She vaguely remembered crying all over the counter of the bar at one point, but even that seemed distant and unimportant. 

A man poked her, and Gwen realized it was the bartender. He was asking her to leave. The bar seemed pretty empty, and Gwen realized she’d missed last call and hadn’t even known it. Could she get up? Barely. The floor was wobbling and moving something terrible, it seemed, whenever she tried to take a step. The Spanish bartender asked her something, but all Gwen could do is smile and nod at him to the best of her ability and slowly walk outside. The car was waiting, now all alone in the dark. She shouldn’t leave it, Gwen thought. It had a GPS anyway. She couldn’t recall where the hotel was at the moment, as everything seemed rather foggy, but the GPS would know. Everything would be fine. 

Gwen checked her phone again as she drove along, listening to the mild woman tell her what streets to turn at. It was nice to hear the automatic voice of the woman, a comfort. No answer from Chibuzo though. Gwen noticed, blearily, that she had sent Chibuzo at least ten messages throughout the night, with no responses. She didn’t remember doing that, but she must have. She’d try and call, maybe. If she could just figure out where the button was, she just be able to—

Gwen noticed a flash of light in front of her, and tried to jerk the steering wheel to turn the car. There was the jarring sound of wheels screeching, a smash, then everything went blank.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cristiana is given the chance to flex her new might as a leader when a crop of girls arrive at the prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! This chapter is just a titch disjointed, but I needed to set up a few things for later chapters. ;) Enjoy!

“Good morning, everyone, you’re looking more chipper, Bale. Hair’s up.”

“Yeah, yeah, a bit, I’m doing a bit better. Had a bath.”

“Thank god.”

Cristiana rested her head on her arm a bit while everyone gently greeted each other as they settled in for breakfast. She wasn’t in a terrible mood, or anything, but she admitted she felt a bit low. She was glad to see Gwen looked and felt a bit better, because Gwen was her friend and she loved her, but there was still a lot buzzing through her mind. Her mom wasn’t coming for visits anymore, although they had talked twice on the phone. There was a stiff, awkward distance that Cristiana didn’t know how to amend. They both had hurt each other, even if Cristiana felt her mother had nothing to feel hurt about. At most, she could feel hurt that Cristiana had lied and not told her, but that was it.

Then there was her new role of leadership that she wasn’t sure how to deal with. Luka would have been better, Cristiana was sure of it. Luka spoke with a sort of energy that people listened to. Cristiana was constantly being talked over and told that her ideas were that of a rich and spoiled person. She needed to talk to Little General Messi and reach an agreement, but she didn’t even know how that would go. To top it off, Aguero had talked in her sleep all night long. She hadn’t, at first, but now she never shut the fuck up all night. It was just mumbles, enough that Cristiana could only catch a few words, and quiet enough that nobody else could probably hear it, but it was infuriating. Cristiana wanted to tell her, but Aguero looked so fragile these days. Maybe that was something to bring up with Little General Messi too. 

“Didn’t sleep well, Ronaldo?”

“Not the greatest.” Cristiana yawned into the crook of her elbow before nodding at Rakitic. “I’ll be fine in like an hour. I still find it too early right now. I used to set my own hours.”

“I get that. So did I. Maria set her own, but you know she used to get up earlier than this? On her own time?”

Cristiana nodded, then paused to see if ter Stegen would contribute with why she would wake up so early, but she did not and Cristiana went back to her rest. She could really go for a chai protein shake. The cup of peach yoghurt sitting in front of her looked like a less than satisfactory replacement. 

“What’s going on, Cris?” Gwen was speaking in English. An easy way to blatantly have a private conversation in front of everyone. Cristiana smiled a bit. It was always so funny to hear Gwen use English, because her voice suddenly sounded so natural. Her Spanish was excellent at this point, but it was jarring to hear how it almost sounded bad next to her native tongue. 

“Not a lot, Aguero kept me up all night with her shitty talking in her sleep. Why do you seem better?”

“I’m not all that better. I kissed, I kissed you-know-who yesterday. I think we’re going out. So that’s good and all that, but I’m still like, pretty fucked up about Sabina.”

“You did?” Cristiana raised her eyebrows. It was unsurprising. It was clear how much Luka and Gwen liked each other. But it seemed so early. 

“You talk much with your mom yet?” Gwen seemed to sense the problem. Cristiana had wondered to herself how much Gwen had been listening to the table chatter this past almost couple of weeks, but maybe she’d been absorbing more than she thought. 

“No, not really yet. What did your parents do when they found out you were gay, Gwen? I don’t even think I’m gay, at least not all the way, but she was so disgusted, like I’d do that just to hurt her or something.”

“My parents barely noticed. That’s not every parent, though. I think they knew, but I was so terrified of the reality of being out, anyway, that I couldn’t bear to tell them. I feel really stupid about it now. It would have been easy. I caused myself so much grief, Cris.”

“What grief? Your folks really love you.” Cristiana ate a small spoonful of her yoghurt. The table was watching them critically as they conversed in English. It made her want to laugh, just a bit. 

“My cowardice on the matter made my girlfriend break up with me, I mean.”

“I don’t think it’s cowardice, exactly, to not be ready to come out.” Cristiana felt her heart ache a little for Gwen when she said it. There was a lot more to this story, Cristiana was sure, that Gwen wasn’t saying. Gwen looked solemn for a moment, staring ahead towards the wall, before turning back to Cristiana. 

“I’m a coward, Cris, and I’m selfish. Selfish people drunk-drive. I drunk-drove. I drunk-drove into an SUV at 3:30 in the morning. I killed a mom of three. She was driving home from a shift at the hospital where she worked as a nurse. I swerved when I saw the car coming head-on so I missed the impact. I walked away from the crash without a scratch and I killed her. I am a terrible piece of shit. I deserve to spend every minute in here that they sentenced me.”

Cristiana stayed silent. So that was why sweet, sweet Gwen was serving six long years. She was always completely mum on the issue, but she just, didn’t seem to care anymore. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe telling people would help her let go. 

“You must think I’m terrible.” Gwen glanced up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling as she took a bite of her cereal. 

“No.” Cristiana tried to catch Gwen’s eye again. “I always wondered why your sentence was so long when you seemed like such a good person. You are a good person. Who made a mistake, a horrible one, but it makes me a bit, I don’t know, relieved.”

Gwen smiled a little, out of the corner of her mouth. “Thought in the back of your mind maybe I was some weird sociopath?”

Cristiana reached over to give Gwen a hug, which she accepted. It was giving her a peculiar feeling, to bond this way with Gwen in the middle of the dining room, but then, nothing was ever terribly orthodox in here. She really did feel an overwhelming amount of love and care for Gwen now, more than she even had before. 

“So that’s what you did.”

Cristiana felt herself turn in unison with Gwen to look across the table for the source of the third English speaker. Ter Stegen was sitting across the table with a slightly crooked, tiny smile on her face. 

“You speak English, ter Stegen?” 

“Maybe you don’t pay very much attention. My English is much better than my Spanish. Germanic languages and all. I don’t mean to insult, Bale.” Maria wiped her mouth with her paper napkin. “I just always wondered.”

Gwen looked a little overwhelmed, and nearly upset that she’d been overheard when she didn’t think anybody was listening to her confession, but was clearly trying to compose herself. 

“Um, I guess some of us pick it up better than others.”

“You had a teacher. I didn’t speak to anyone for three years.”

Cristiana couldn’t believe all this. She had never seen so many words come out of ter Stegen’s mouth at once, ever. Perhaps she spoke this much to Rakitic, but she’d never seen it. Ter Stegen looked awfully pleased with herself for spooking the both of them.

“Oh, um, well, yeah.” Gwen was still floundering. Cristiana felt relieved that neither of them knew how to talk to ter Stegen when confronted with the chance.

“I won’t tell anyone, Bale. I mean, I should rephrase, I won’t tell Ivana. I don’t even have anyone else to tell.” 

This made Rakitic look up at the sound of her name, but she was staying out of the conversation. There was bemusement on her face, and she looked pleased that ter Stegen was being social, but other than that, she stared straight ahead and talked only to Luka. 

“Well, thanks I guess.” Gwen finished her water and stacked up the dishes on her tray.

“Wait, wait. Fair’s fair, ask me something you always wondered about me. I know I come off as an awfully cold fish, but I don’t mean to be.”

Gwen had started to get back up, but she sat down. Cristiana supposed that Gwen considered this deal fair. Gwen mulled over her thoughts for a second, before straightening up. “I watched your case on the telly as a high schooler. How did you learn to shoot like that?”

“I shot tin cans off a log since I was nine. It was easy, I pretended they were my dad. I get never having the guts to do something, Bale. I should have gone home one day and done it.”

~

Ronaldo was late. Leo felt herself tapping her fingers on the desk in the learning commons, growing comically impatient. Ronaldo was frequently late, and Leo knew well enough by now that it wasn’t because she was doing anything important at all. Ronaldo was vain, and she liked to look nicer than normal when teaching Leo. Leo understood the insecurity. She made Ronaldo nervous and unclear, and it was one way Ronaldo felt she could control how she presented herself whenever they had to be around each other. 

Leo had noted, with both annoyance and glee, that several other women had bleached their hair in the wake of her bold new look. Neymar had tried to go and dye all her beautiful curls blond, but Marta talked her out of it, luckily. Kun had given less-than-glowing reviews, saying it made her eyebrows too dark or some silly nonsense, but Leo really did feel better about a lot of things. Blonds do have more fun, Leo had discovered. People listened to her again, saw that she meant business about things. She refused to fade into the background, the women in this prison would know her name, respect her and revere her, even if they didn’t know anything about her. The way it should be. 

“Hey, I’m here, I’m here, sorry, we can start the lesson now.” Ronaldo rushed into the learning commons and flopped into her chair. Leo noted that her hair was indeed neatly curled, and she had fresher looking makeup. What a waste, really. She should save the fancy hair for when she was with her girlfriend, not her English student.

“Ronaldo, we need to talk about your new…role.” Leo shoved the book aside. Ronaldo may be the new leader, but Leo was all too aware that she was still in charge. 

Ronaldo looked over Leo’s face carefully, before patting her hand on the table awkwardly. “I don’t know how to do it, Li—I mean Messi.”

“First, can we deal with why you seem to catch yourself calling me Little Messi every other sentence? You’ve done it since I’ve met you.”

Ronaldo looked horribly embarrassed. She gestured her hands rapidly as she tried to explain. “No, no, I’m not calling you Little Messi, it’s not that, there was this nickname, this thing I got told people called you, it stuck, it’s not Little Messi.”

Leo raised an eyebrow and waited. 

“I keep almost calling you Little General. Like Napoleon I suppose. I was told that on my first day. I’m sorry, I’ll try not to do it, I’m sorry.”

Leo tried to keep from smiling. She’d never heard that particular nickname, and she’d had no idea. How…curiously flattering, that that was how people saw her. A tiny powerhouse. In a way, that was what she wanted. But she would never tell Ronaldo that. 

“Don’t fucking apologize. It’s a sign of weakness, Ronaldo. Someone in your group does a shitty thing and someone wants you to answer for it? Don’t apologize. It’s literally rule number one. You ever see Ramos apologize to someone in her life?”

“To Gwen when she sna—“

“No, fuck, Bale doesn’t count, you know what I mean.” Leo waved her hand at Ronaldo. She wished she didn’t have a such a literal mind. 

“I guess I do. What’s rule number two?”

Leo patted Ronaldo’s back a bit, letting herself chuckle lightly. She had expected to talk prison politics, not give a seminar on how to be a good gang leader. Maybe she shouldn’t do it, maybe she should let the group fall apart. But there was something about Ronaldo. Something she always liked, in the back of her brain. She didn’t want her to fail. 

~

“Who did ter Stegen go to pick up?” Jamie tried to catch a gummy watermelon in her mouth, before tossing one for Cristiana to try and catch. She missed, because of course she did, and watched it fall to the floor. 

“Why do you buy bags of that crap in the commissary?”

“I like them. Are you going to get that?”

“It fell on the floor, Jamie.”

“Okay, okay, baby, I get it. I won’t waste any more on you. I like, kind of heard this thing that they were bringing some new girls up, kind of a rush job. I think they’re still on trial, it was like this case where they were trying to get super-revenge on their ex-boyfriends or something and it went awful. I don’t know. I didn’t talk to ter Stegen, but that’s what I’ve heard.” Jamie shrugged a bit. She didn’t know how or when she really heard gossip. It just happened and it was an easy thing to absorb, as there was nothing else to focus on. 

“Do you know how many? Where are they going to sleep? Can the prison fit them? Why can’t they go to max to keep them?”

“Sloooooooow down, baby. I don’t know, a group of them, five or six girls or something. They’ll make room. There hasn’t been a new group of girls since Roberto and Ramos left.”

“That’s two beds.”

“Baby, I don’t know. Maybe it won’t be for long, they might keep them in the temporary bedrooms.”

Cristiana scratched her head, then shook out her hair with her hand, looking curiously pensive. Jamie sighed. It had been a weird time for everyone, she knew, but this shouldn’t be that big of a thing. Girls came and went in here all the time.

“Okay, what is it?”

“I spoke with Messi. She said I need to be a leader. I guess it was our first official talk, like some G20 meeting or something. She gave me some tips, like, on how to be someone who commands a room. She said I need to make firm decisions. I feel…like new girls would be my first chance to prove it. I guess I feel anxious.”

Jamie sighed. Cristiana was taking this job seriously. Jamie personally thought the whole thing was a bit stupid, although she liked having a layer of protection by having other girls to defend her. 

“Do you feel like you have to match up to Messi?”

Cristiana thought for a second, before shaking her head. “No. Messi is always going to do things her way, I think. I don’t want to be her rival like that. I mean, I am, I am her rival now. But we don’t have to compete on a personal level. Anyway, I don’t think they’re looking for girls to add to their group. We’re slimming out, it’s my chance to pick us someone good.”

“Look at you, growin’ and stuff. Okay, come on, ter Stegen will be back soon with the new crop.” Jamie got up, stuffing her bag of watermelon candies into her pocket beside her rolled up book of sudokus and her pencil. God, what a grandma she was becoming. She would prefer to just stay in her room and not bother the new girls, girls who were likely angry and vengeful bitches, but this was important to Cristiana, so she followed. 

“I’m not going to get Gwen. She’s not going to like the idea of a new person so soon after Ramos, you know? But I’ll talk with everyone. I just want to see them now.”

“I know, I know.” Jamie glanced to make sure there was no guards watching behind them, then slipped her hand into Cristiana’s. The van was pulling up, and there were women lining the windows to watch the women come out. Ter Stegen was a terrible host for the ladies, which Jamie always found hilarious, knowing she’d be as anti-social and silent as ter Stegen. Roberto always liked to give a little tour, talk, and relax the new inmates, but ter Stegen always just chucked the keys back at whatever guard had accompanied them and head inside without a word. She was truly the worst person they could have chosen, but that was the prison for you. Bad choices everywhere. 

“You want to go see them at the window?”

“No,” Cristiana took a deep breath. “I don’t want to look desperate or anything.”

“Got it. We’ll wait ‘til they come inside. Come on, baby, sit, look nonchalant.”

“With my eye candy?” Cristiana smiled and sat on a bench, pulling Jamie to sit down and put her legs in Cristiana’s lap. Jamie smiled. She was showing her dominance the way Leo did, with her girlfriends hung off each arm. 

“Okay, here’s the rec room, ladies. This is where most of the inmates spend their free time. There’s board games and some television, and sometimes the ladies make crafts. It’s too early for dinner, so get comfortable.” Roccuzzo could be heard down the hall giving the tour, so at least they were getting the nicest guard. Ter Stegen ducked in ahead of the group and headed towards the first person from her gang she could see, which happened to be Pique, slipping out of sight behind her. There was an audible silence in the room now, as Roccuzzo led in the group. 

There were six women in orange standing there with Roccuzzo, looking around the room in cold silence at all the inmates. Six tall, beautiful brunettes with long hair and brooding looks. Jamie felt irritated for some reason. Five out of the six were white, and all six looked like bitches. She knew she shouldn’t be like that, Cristiana liked to present herself in an elegant, put-together way. She could be snooty. Cristiana never came to prison with that air though, she came terrified and ready to be a friend to whoever wanted her. 

“Are you gonna do anything?” Jamie whispered to Cristiana. Cristiana was glancing back to see if Messi was even in the room. She wasn’t, and Cristiana turned back and swallowed.”

“I should. Before someone else does.”

“Maybe don’t. Look, they look like bitches, Cristiana. We don’t want them, right, right?”

“We don’t know them, Jamie, we can give them a chance. I at least need to prove I’m dominant, right?”

“Be like Messi, be absent, be a mysterious force. Be someone that people are driven to.”

“Why are you getting upset?” Cristiana looked confused, before getting up. Jamie didn’t know why she was getting riled up, really. It actually didn’t make any sense. She was heading towards the girls, and Jamie felt like she needed to follow. 

“I’m Ronaldo.” Cristiana was trying so hard to give a firm, hard look to all the girls. Jamie didn’t know what to do or say now that she was standing there with Cristiana like a weird sidekick, so she just stayed quiet. 

“And?” One of the girls looked Cristiana up and down, lips pursed. Jamie wanted to slap the girl, thinking she was better than Cristiana. She was prettier than all of them, even though she was confined to prison beauty products. 

“I’m just someone that you’re gonna want to meet. Welcome to prison, girls. You’re going to have a blast in here.” 

Jamie was shocked. Cristiana was speaking in such a silky, almost frightening tone. What had Messi taught her? 

“Could I have your names, girls?”

The one that was staring at Cristiana looked like she wasn’t going to answer, then changed her mind. “Francesca.”

Cristiana made a harsh noise, like a buzzer to mark an incorrect answer. In that moment, Jamie saw Ramos rip her way out of Cristiana’s body. It was almost terrifying to see it. 

“Wrong. What’s your last name, bitch?”

Francesca was glaring, darkly at this point, at Cristiana, before turning to look at her friends. “I don’t go by my last name. You can call me Esca, or nothing. Them? That’s Asensio, Vazquez, Morata, Varane, and, eh, we just call her Nacho. Don’t fucking ask.”

Jamie wished she knew why, but she felt anxious, and almost angry. Cristiana was holding her ground well, but this little clique already wanted to make a name for themselves. They were all so tall and beautiful, their bodies almost perfect like Cristiana’s. Jamie desperately hoped Cristiana didn’t want any of them for her group. She already knew they’d make her feel like shit about herself.

~

~ Ibagué, Colombia, five years earlier~

Jamie tapped her foot repetitively agains the dirty floor of the bathroom, in unison with her hand tapping against the little stick. Everything about this public washroom was disgusting. Jamie usually tried her best to just fucking hold it until she could get to someone’s house to piss, or even piss outside at times, but she needed the privacy of a stall right now. She felt sick, that horrible, twisting feeling of anxiety. 

It was her fault that she felt so anxious, anyway. It was her fault that she was locked in the bathroom of a burger shack pissing on expensive fucking pregnancy tests because she didn’t know how to keep her damn legs together anymore. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to do this, but the same jitters came back every time. She’d been lucky so far. Her periods were always a bit erratic since her incident a few years back, but it only made the anxiety worse. Every goddamn time a guy would whine about not wanting a condom and she’d give in, every time she’d pretend to act more drunk than she was a party because she felt sorry for herself and she wanted attention. Every time she’d end up back in the toilet of the burger place a block from the drugstore taking pregnancy tests obsessively. 

Jamie tried not to panic about one missed period anymore, but it was hard to ignore that this was the second one. The stupid stick was probably almost done percolating, or whatever it did, and Jamie forced herself to look down at it. Fuck’s sakes. There were two lines, two awful little lines that showed she’d been a terrible little slut once again. Jamie knew she was starting to cry, staring at the disgusting pee stick. She was suck a failure, such a terrible, awful failure. 

There was no money in her family for school, and even though Jamie still consumed books as quickly as they were placed into her hand, she didn’t know what she wanted out of life. There wasn’t a point in trying to take out loans and struggling if she didn’t know what she wanted. She was one of the only ones that had graduated high school in her group of friends, and that was worth something. Jamie was haunted by the fact of how that wouldn’t have even been the case if she hadn’t done something about the first baby, but now look at her. Nineteen, useless, and in the same state. Jamie didn’t even know who the dad would be in this case. A stupid fucking failure, doing exactly what that abortion doctor had made her promise not to do. She hadn’t gone on to do great things, she lived at home, worked as a server at a bad pizza restaurant during the day, and went out every night with the friends she still hated. 

Jamie tried to wipe her face and get up off the nasty toilet. She’d deal with this herself. Jamie hated to swallow her pride, but God, would she ever, to get rid of what was inside of her. She’d call Camila, ask her to call that doctor again. He would be upset to see her, she would feel shame. She had failed her promise, so she couldn’t promise him again that she’d do better, but she could still try. She could work at the pizza restaurant long enough until she had money to take some college classes, she could do it slow. She’d figure out what she wanted out of her life. Jamie washed her hands at the sink and fished out her phone.

“Cami, babe?”

“Hey girl! What’s going on? Are you crying? Do I need to go kill a man?”

Jamie was instantly impatient. She knew her friends cared for her. She really wished she did care more for them. It was so, so hard to open up to a group of people she knew she had nothing in common with, really. Maybe she had more in common with them than she thought, although she hated to admit it. They were troubled and lost souls like her. And they’d stuck around with her. 

“No, I’m not crying.” Jamie wiped her nose on her arm. “Can I have the number again of that guy, you know the one, the doctor man who you took me too like a million years ago when I fucked up and fucked David?”

Camila made a long, dramatic “mmmmmmm” noise before clucking her tongue. “Jamie, he was arrested like two years ago.”

“What?” Jamie felt her heart fall into her stomach. “Why?”

“Why do you think? He was performing illegal abortions. He’s in jail for so-called murdering babies which is some real bullshit. Look, I know another guy, he’s like, mmm, not quite so official as Nicolas was, but he gets the job done. I can call him, you could meet me this evening like probably. How late are you?”

“I don’t know, if I count back far enough, probably like nine weeks?”

“Oooooooooops.”

Jamie rolled her eyes. This was so blasé for Camila. It made her both angry and sad that it was for her. 

“Is he safe?”

A snort from Camila. “Um, I guess so. Just come meet me now, I’m at Rev’s house.”

“Yeah, on it.” Jamie hung up her phone and put it back in her purse. She knew she was the sort of girl that adults looked down on as she passed by, with the crop tops and skin-tight jeans paired with strappy heels and fake designer bags. Like every other poor girl in Colombia pretending she wasn’t. The walk to meet up with Camila wasn’t far, but it felt like a bit like a death march. Maybe this guy wouldn’t judge her. He probably didn’t give a flying fuck about her, but that was the problem. Jamie was far from convinced that he was any sort of medical doctor. 

“Heyyyyyyyyy, babe!” Camila was outside the apartment building having a smoke. She looked cheerful, despite the conversation they’d just had. 

“Yeah, hi.”

“I called him already, he’s busy tonight, but he’s coming over now. Rev’s upstairs, we can just do it on the bed on a towel.”

“Now?” Jamie felt her eyes grow traitorously wet again. Now was better. Of course it was. But on a towel in a friend’s apartment she’d been to like four times, God, nothing could be more cheap and disgusting. 

“Don’t get so upset, you’ve always been so sensitive, oh my god.” Camila dragged Jamie upstairs. How embarrassing that one of her male friends would know what was going on. Rev was sitting behind his kitchen counter, making himself a highball. He said nothing, looking a little grossed out. Fantastic. This was one way to burn a bridge. Jamie perched on the couch and said nothing to him. Even offering a thanks for letting her use the place seemed too awkward to deal with.

There was the sharp little buzz signalling he was downstairs and wanted up. Jamie got up and walked into Rev’s bathroom, almost immediately throwing up into the toilet as soon as the door was shut. Maybe she should carry it and just adopt the stupid thing out. That would do, right? 

There was laughter from the living room, before Camila came and knocked on the door. “Hey, Rev’s kinda grossed out about doing this in like, the living room, or his bedroom, so we’re just gonna do it in the bathroom, can I come in?”

Jamie wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet. “Yeah, whatever, come in.”

Camila pushed in with the guy and a towel. Jamie found herself taking hold of the towel bar to steady herself. 

“Hey, so Cam told me your name is Jamie, my name is—“

“Please just tell me how much you charge.”

“Ehhh, sixty thousand pesos.”

“Okay, great, let’s go. Don’t fucking kill me, okay?” Jamie knew she was being short with him, which was probably a bad idea. But if she didn’t snip, she’d just cry again. Jamie waited until Camila put a towel down in the tub, then took off her bottoms and waited for instruction.

“You got a gorgeous ass, you know.”

Jamie said nothing. It was like she could go no where without someone bringing up ass, tits, waist, something.

“You could do music videos for like, rappers.”

Jamie was appalled. He said this like it was really a compliment. “Um, thank you.”

“Okay, I do this for a lot of my friends, just sit back, try to relax, it’s really easy. I’m just gonna jiggle this coathanger a bit in you, you bleed it out, and bim-bam done.”

Jamie got into the tub and spread her legs. “I mean it, don’t kill me.”

“Honey, don’t worry. Hey, you know what?” The guy went to work, and Jamie did everything in her power not to scream, although she knew she was crying again. It hurt, it fucking hurt way worse than when the little vacuum did its work. Coat hangers were so thin, yet being pushed all the way into her uterus hurt so much more than she was expecting.

“What?” Jamie wiped her face and eyes, although it made no difference to the mess all over her face. 

“I really mean it, you could model in America, even if you are like, short. In six-inch spikes in a music video nobody would be able to tell. You want to meet me tonight later once you feel a bit better at La Tribu? There’s some people I’d love you to meet.”

Jamie clamped her eyes shut, ignoring his question. Breathe through the pain and trust him in this moment, it was all she had to do. 

~

“Rise and shine, honey. I’m telling’ ya, if I overhear you whine that you got cold water in your shower again one more day.” Mama Marcelo ruffled Jamie’s head, before heading out of the bedroom in her shower cap, towel draped over her arm delicately.

“Mmmm, okay.” Jamie sat up. She wouldn’t make it into the first lineups, there was no way. Only the top women who fought for the showers first ever got the hot water, and Jamie felt camaraderie in complaining with the rest of the women that they all hated their cold showers. Jamie grabbed her robe and meandered down to the showers, feeling at least some interest in watching the new girls get the cold, hard news of how dirty and horrific the showers really were. She hoped none of them had shower sandals yet. 

“Morning, honey, you feeling okay?” Jamie smiled at Aguero, altering her stride to keep pace with her. Aguero usually shared a shower with Messi, or if she didn’t feel like sharing, Messi would hold a shower stall for her, so Aguero never hurried, especially now that she was round and a bit lumbering. 

“Yeah, not so bad. You girlfriend snores like a witch, though.”

Jamie hid a smile. So all of Cristiana’s complaining about the sleep-talking was accidentally hypocritical. Jamie couldn’t recall Cristiana being a snorer, so lord knew why she was now. 

“How long until baby?”

“Like twelve weeks.”

“Oh, wow.” Jamie walked into the bathrooms and took off her nightshirt. “Are you excited?”

“Um, it’s kinda making me a bit melancholy. It’s going to be hard to let baby go. I don’t know. I feel like I always sort of wanted one, but it was never the time. It’s really not the time now.” Aguero laughed a tiny bit, taking off her own pajamas. “Did you want kids?”

“Sounds like I’m like you. It’s never been the right time. I don’t hate kids, would have been nice to have one later in life. I don’t know. I think I still have time. I’m young, I can get it together, right?” Jamie felt uncomfortable about the question. Kids were a weird topic. 

Aguero laughed a bit and walked into the shower Messi was holding open for her while she rubbed her wet hair with her towel. Maybe now that Cristiana was leader, Jamie would get the same privilege. Jamie was sure Messi would do the same for Neymar, but Neymar was always one of the first in the shower anyway. The girl was always fucking awake. 

The new girls were huddled near to one another, looking like the wind had fallen out of their sails, at least a little bit. Jamie noticed with approval that they were not wearing shower sandals. Jamie smirked and cocked her head a bit, before turning and staring hard towards the showers. 

“Ooooo, look, there’s Ronaldo’s little lackey.” One of the girls spoke, loud enough for Jamie to hear. It wasn’t Esca from yesterday, and Jamie had noted that it wasn’t Varane or the girl they called Nacho, but it was one of the other three. Not that it mattered. They all snickered to each other. They could fuck themselves, Jamie was no lackey. Not to Cristiana and not to anyone. She never even was subservient when Ramos was running the scene. She was quiet and didn’t like to ruffle feathers, but Jamie always fucking stood up for herself. She wasn’t going to argue with these cows, but she’d show them. Jamie pushed forward to the front of the lines of the showers. 

“Cristiana? You in one of these still, baby?” Jamie tried to raise her voice, make it fully audible over the sounds of shouting and water. 

There was a muffled noise from one of them, and Jamie took a chance and banged on the little stall door. Cristiana pushed it open, hair full of soap, looking confused. 

“Can I come in, baby?” Jamie let herself in anyway, leaving the door hanging part-way open. 

“I didn’t think you’d be in a shower yet, I—“

Jamie stopped and pulled Cristiana down a bit by her neck, giving her a wet, sloppy kiss. Cristiana looked slightly taken aback, pulling away. 

“I’m going to get soap in my eyes.”

“Okay, wash your hair out, I need you, right now.”

“It’s a room full of people, Jamie.” Cristiana finished washing her hair out, before slipping her arms around Jamie’s waist chastely. Jamie did everything in her power not to huff. Cristiana was so embarrassed by public intimacy. In the meagre privacy of their shower stall, holding each other was probably the furthest Cristiana felt she could go.

“Can I pretend to scream out then?”

“Why?”

“Those stupid new slags out there called me your lackey. I am not your lackey. We’re equals.”

“I know, I know, of course we are, Jamie.” Cristiana looked startled. “I would never think I was better than you.”

“But they do!” Jamie stomped her foot a bit, despite herself. “They already have an image I’m some quiet tag-along.”

“Jamie, these girls are really burning you up. Why? I don’t understand.”

“Because…because! Because I’ve always been viewed as a little whore that’s useless except for her tits and ass, but worse because I’m also chubby, not skinny in the waist. Never been taken seriously for anything except as a plaything, never. Not even a plaything to keep. I just want them to know, I don’t know, that you find me worthy, because I know you do, but I want them to know I’m not your pet in here. I’m sorry, god, I shouldn’t have even thought of it, not fucking considerate to you.” Jamie leaned back into the wall of the shower stall a bit. It wasn’t clean either, but cleaner than the floor. 

Cristiana rubber her temple for a moment, before nodding. “Everyone is going to have our heads if we don’t get out of the shower soon. We’d better wash each other right quick.”

Jamie blinked up at Cristiana. “Are you sure?”

“I am.” Cristiana leaned down and got her bottle of body wash, squeezing some into her hand to start to lather up Jamie’s back. “You once let me watch you do this, you know. Before we started going out. Were you flirting with me then?”

Jamie felt herself purr a little at Cristiana, despite herself. “I think I kinda was. Didn’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Mmmmm, well, thanks, anyway. You know, my first morning in prison, I saw Messi eat out Aguero in the shower. Really shocked me. I feel like maybe she passed on the torch to me.” Cristiana’s hand slipped further down Jamie’s back and bum as she rambled, before coming round to the front to stroke Jamie’s clit so lightly that it sent tingles up her spine. “You think you can come in a couple minutes?”

“’Course I can, it’s me. Fuck, Cristiana, baby, that feels good, fuck.”

Cristiana leaned in to give more kisses, before unlatching the door of the shower and letting it fall partly open. Cristiana was still mostly behind the door, but Jamie was in full view of those cows, getting loved up. Jamie made sure to moan extra-pornographically. After all, they only deserved the full show.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geri tries to show Ivana why the prison is falling apart, while Kun gets some inspiration for her art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've kind of gotten to the point in the story where I need to actually like, continue a bunch of flashback story lines that were left behind in the early, early portions of the fic, ha. I do have everyone's story planned out, but sometimes I realize that I get lost in one person's story and forget about someone else's, so welcome back flashbacks from Geri and Ivana, lol.

Geri hated waiting for a toilet stall. There was only the one bathroom in this fucking place, and it only had four stalls. It was outrageous. There had to be at least a hundred and twenty women living in this particular prison. About three hundred living in max security below them. Maybe they were lucky here in low-security prison, those girls in max probably had only four stalls between them too. It didn’t help that the stall doors on two of them were broken. They hung precariously from their hinges, and neither of them locked. Geri didn’t really care about that, to be honest, for herself. But it was fucking frustrating that nobody ever did anything to fix this shit. It wouldn’t take long to bring in a handyman and attach some new goddamn screws, give the shyer women a bit of privacy. The whole place seemed to be like that. Geri was endlessly suspicious about where the money that her mother gave to the prison went. It was a well-appreciated bribe on the board of director’s end, but nothing ever came to it. Geri asked her mother occasionally if she knew where the money was going, but she didn’t. 

“Ay! Four of you really need to take shits at once in this place?” Geri felt her voice inadvertently rise. It wasn’t anybody’s fault if they had to use the washroom. It was misplaced grumpiness. She got that way a lot, it seemed. There was no fucking place in here to dispel any anger. Lifting weights gave just a little relief, but only a little. Geri found herself kicking the door of one of the remaining stalls that still had one, and to her dismay, the door crumpled off the top hinge, coming backwards down on the woman in the stall. She was quick enough to raise her hands so that it hit and landed on those rather than her head. Thank god. Geri stared blankly as the woman shoved the door backwards out at her. She leaped aside just in time, and it rattled to the ground. It was one of the new girls. Geri didn’t care who. At least the person behind the door wasn’t someone who was an issue. 

“Hey, you, what the fuck!” 

“Sorry, man.” Geri flopped her hands at her side. There was nothing to be done. There were now two doors that didn’t latch, a door that did, and no door at all. And it was her fault. Although it was absolute bullshit that the door would never get fixed. It would get chucked in the dumpster and forgotten. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Pique?” Alves was sitting at the counter, a leg stuck in the sink while she shaved it. 

“I dunno.” Geri turned and headed out of the bathroom. Better not to make a big deal about it or she’d just get angry. She didn’t need more enemies anyway. She’d go hide somewhere behind some of her friends. Better, hide somewhere near Ronaldo’s group. Ronaldo had done her best to scare those girls. Leo was playing aloof about the whole thing, but that was Leo’s way. She was sussing the girls out, seeing if any of them were worthy to join her. 

Ivana and Maria were playing a quiet game of cards in the rec room. Safe enough. Ivana, and god knows Maria, hated drama, so Ivana would dispel any unpleasant situations.

“Can I cut in?” Geri pulled a chair up and stared critically at what they were playing. They were playing rummy. Geri didn’t care for card games, she’d play them in groups with others if that was the social thing to do, and she usually wouldn’t bother them if they were just with each other, but it was best to blend in.

“Can you wait for the next round, hon?” Ivana was deep in thought. Maria was probably beating her. Maria was very good at card games and her poker face was impeccable. 

“Yeah, yeah. Make me look involved though. I just broke one of the toilet stall doors and there was someone in it.”

Ivana looked exhausted, slapping her hand on the table. “Geri, are you serious? You just broke one of the doors? How much did you break it? Which door? One of the good doors?”

“Um.” Geri scratched her head a bit. “Yeah, one of the good ones. I broke it off.”

“You BROKE it OFF?” 

“Yeah, shut up, a bunch of people probably want my head.”

“Who was in the stall?” Ivana lowered her voice. Maria seemed to be practically ignoring the conversation, fully focused on the game. 

“I dunno, Morata? Asensio? Who gives a fuck.” Geri leaned back in her chair.

“I mean, kinda important. But anyway, Geri, you don’t know your own strength sometimes.”

“Oh, believe me, Ivana, I know it. But look, my issue is, this place is in shambles. We know the door won’t get fixed. We live in squalor.”

“I mean, you’re right. But what do you want to do about it?” Ivana played a card.

“You used to be all about fixing injustices.”

“I also had two white-people dreadlocks in my hair, Geri. Things are a little different.”

Geri huffed and leaned back further. Ivana would be the only one that would have a bone to pick about the injustice, and she was doing nothing. The chair tipped back further than Geri was expecting and she went toppling to the ground, making Ivana leap up and Maria peer over from her seat. 

“You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Geri scrambled up, knowing her face was going red. The chair had never gone back on her before. The back was now split off it. Wonderful. It was a stool now. 

“Don’t get mad, Geri, I see it in your eyes. You want to kick it.”

“Everything’s a piece of shit!”

“Admit that you’re a little destructive!”

“It’s not just that! This place is in shambles! It’s weak enough that I do break it easy and it doesn’t get fixed!” Geri could only think of one thing when she was in this sort of fucking temper. Shakira. Shakira would calm her down. She hadn’t called her today yet, and she usually waited a bit to do so, but she’d call early. The day would get better. Geri stomped off from the rec room down to the hall with the phones. It was always a busy place, they were beside the commissary and the doctor’s office, so Geri never got privacy talking to Shakira, but that was okay. She’d wait her turn. She could stew in her own temper until then.

“Hey, I heard that you broke the door off the bathroom stall.” A woman from the Brazilian table hung up the phone and glanced dryly at Geri. “All yours, you fucking water buffalo.”

Geri wanted to smack her. She got it already. She was big and clunky. She was much bigger than the average woman. She’d heard it all before and it hurt. It hurt but it didn’t matter, because she’d talk to Shakira and it would be better. Geri took the phone and started to dial the number, but there was no dial tone at all. 

“Hey!” Geri called out to the Brazilian, who was already halfway down the hall. “Did you break the fucking phone?” 

“No, you psycho!” The girl flipped Geri off, before storming off down the hall. Geri blinked at the phone and tried dialing the number again. Nothing. Fucking nothing. Unbelievable. Geri slammed the phone back down on the receiver. This one wasn’t her fault. 

~

~University of Barcelona, six years earlier~

“This is so stupid, this isn’t the first day of school. Don’t need to keep primping, mom.” 

“It’s kind of like the first day of school though, now, isn’t it? Your first day of actual medical school, we’re so proud, we’re all so proud.” 

Geri squirmed as her mother leaned in to try and fix the collar on her button-up. She was making the family pose for photos. They’d all dressed up in nice, cheery clothing for the pictures, standing out in front of the school. It was stupid. Of course she was excited to start med school properly, but it didn’t need to be a production. 

“Okay, arm around Shakira, now, come on, come on.” Geri’s dad flund his hand wildly to the side try and get everyone in the frame. “Marc, get over here and pose for one photo.”

Marc slouched over. Geri leaned in and ruffled his hair anyways as she slipped her other arm around Shakira and pulled her inward. She knew she shouldn’t pester her little brother so much. He had pretty big shoes to fill, what with Geri following in her mother’s footsteps in becoming a neurological doctor, and they didn’t always get along. He wasn’t too happy today, being dragged to the university for photos that he too felt were unnecessary. 

“Okay, okay, it’s taken.” Geri’s dad immediately handed the camera over to Shakira. “One of the family, and we’re done here? Thanks, honey.”

Geri was glad that her father and brother were on her side over these photos. Shakira and her mother loved each other, which was good, at least, but they hatched a lot of schemes with each other, picture day here being one of them. Everybody grimaced for the photo once more, then let Geri pick up her bag. 

“Be good, Geri.” Geri’s mother leaned in for one more kiss, patting her cheeks, before letting go.

“I won’t be good?”

“Your reputation in the classroom precedes you, my dear. Just behave yourself. Don’t be the class clown, don’t get upset with people.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. I really gotta go now, or I’m going to be late.” Geri threw Shakira a kiss, before walking towards the building. One more wave at her family, then she slipped inside. Peace, finally. It wasn’t hard to find her first classroom, but that was only because Geri had already lurked all around the School of Medicine days earlier to make sure she didn’t look like a goddamn fool. There was nothing worse than getting embarrassed in class. There was a small stream of people puttering in, settling in and finding a seat along the long, curved desk in the little lecture hall. There were a couple rows, and Geri put herself carefully in the middle, just off to the side. The right place not to stick out too much, at least for now. Geri knew, rather proudly, that she always made an impact in class. But her time to shine would come. 

“Hey, it’s my favourite giant? How’ve you been? What’ve you been up to?”

Geri felt a slap on her shoulder, but she knew who it was from that annoying, smarmy, almost cartoonish voice. Paulo Moya. He was here, too. In fact, he seemed to be plunking himself right next to her. 

“Fucking your girl all summer, she didn’t bring it up?” Geri put her own hand on Paulo’s shoulder when he sat down and feigned a look of surprise. That comment would rile him up almost as much as he riled her up. He shook off her hand and opened his laptop. 

“Joke’s on you, I don’t have a girlfriend. Just a stream of endless summer babes. Americans, you know.”

“How did you trick so many girls into finding you attractive? Look at you. Such a tiny, dainty stature. I imagine dick to match. You know, girls like a man with power.”

“A man like you, perhaps?”

A bit too far. Geri turned to her laptop, seething. The banter never felt as fun as it should be, but she hated it when he went overboard, without even knowing it. It had been a weird summer, honestly, figuring out how she felt about being intersex. There were days where she’d sit in bed for hours and voraciously read papers and stories about old, historical people who were intersex. She’d watch a million Youtube videos by other intersex folk about their experiences and feel better about herself, presenting all her findings to Shakira. But there were days where her womanhood just felt strange, and suddenly foreign. It didn’t make sense. There was no right way to perform womanhood, which Geri inherently knew, but there were days where she suddenly felt like she wasn’t doing enough to defend it in herself. Stupid, she knew. Easy to chalk up to internalized issues because of how the general public felt about people like her. But now there was a sore spot that people could pick at without ever knowing how upset it actually made her. And it was easy to do it. She’d been told day after day since she was a kid that she was like a boy. 

“Oh my god.” Paulo rolled his eyes and turned to his own computer. Class was starting anyway. Geri picked at a paper clip on her binder. Attached to it was a note from Shakira telling her to have a good day, with a little lipstick kiss. She should. Paulo Moya wouldn’t get the better of her. Geri posed the paper clip on the tip of her finger for a moment, before turning and flicking it at Paulo’s head. He wasn’t expecting it, and he jerked and yelped when the metal hit his temple. Everyone looked up, including the professor. 

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no, she just hit me with…no, never mind.” Paulo’s face was burning with embarrassment. The professor glanced at Geri, curious and a little cranky looking. He wanted an explanation. Geri straightened up and smiled cooly at the professor. Her notoriety was going to come quickly. 

“Just a misunderstanding, sir. I’m Geraldine Pique, pleasure to be privileged to sit in your class.”

~

“I didn’t know you were hiding seeds under your bed.” 

Ivana dug the shovel into the dirt, slamming down into it hard with her foot. “Luka snuck me a tomato. I don’t know, it seemed really gross to save a jar of seeds under my bed, especially when the tomato goo grew mould. I didn’t know if I’d be able to save the seeds properly. They seem okay.”

“And where did you get the shovel?” A smile danced on Maria’s lips. She was standing, hands in her pockets, watching as Ivana struggled with the shovel. It was unwieldy as all shit, Ivana was discovering. And the dirt here was harder than she thought after being ignored for so long. 

“It was just in the shed there, with a bunch of shit. God, I gotta get this done, it’s going to be too late for these tomatoes if I don’t get them in the ground as soon as possible.”

Maria reached over and took the shovel out of Ivana’s hands, starting to work the dirt herself. Ivana took a deep breath. 

“Thank you, my love.”

“You seem very stressed today, Ivana.” Maria stayed focus at turning up the dirt. 

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what Geri said, you know.”

“Geri says lots of things.”

“About how I used to fight the system, now I’m sitting in prison filing my nails and getting blow-outs.”

“Is that why you decided your seeds were done…” Maria paused and considered what word to use. She was having trouble. “If they were done percolating today. You wanted to stick it to Enrique that you will have your garden.”

Maria read her too well. Ivana sighed. She was right. She was always right. She’d been possessed to do something that made her feel like even a shard of her old self. Prison had been a weird place. It had taken Ivana’s self-righteous, obnoxious behaviour from her past and shaken it out of her, that was for sure, but with it went a lot of things that Ivana liked about herself. Her passions, mostly. The passion she had for the environment, except her vegetarianism, had nearly dried up altogether. She hadn’t even talked to Luka about it, really. She knew Luka was still in contact with their shared friends over at Akcija Hrvatska Sada, but Ivana never tried to call or write. 

“I’m glad you’re not a radical anymore, if it helps, Ivana.”

It did help a little. Maria had, very curiously, become the most important thing in Ivana’s life. She never thought one person would be so important. Ivana had been living communally for so long, always putting her causes before her personal life. She’d had boyfriends and girlfriends, all based in her circle, but both of them were always so, so focused on the greater good. Now, Maria was the focal point, and it was a weird shift. Good, but weird. 

“I think I’ve toned it down a lot, Maria, I really do. I’m okay with being moderate. You get, perspective in prison. I’ve learned how to calm down about all this stuff. But Geri’s right, when did I lost it entirely? She’s right. We’re not taken care of in here at all.”

Maria stayed quiet while she dug. Ivana imagined she was deep in thought. If she knew Maria as well as Maria knew her, she knew Maria was thinking about what had happened in the van that one terrible afternoon. How she knew no one would believe her. 

“What do you want to do about it, Ivana?”

“I don’t really know.”

“It’s not your responsibility to fix a broken system.”

Ivana felt taken aback with the sentence. Nobody had ever told her that before. Her way of life had always been doing as much as possible to change broken systems. United action worked. It was proven to work. Broken systems could be repaired. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you put it on yourself. It’s not your personal job, and it’s not Geri’s personal job, to win us prisoner’s rights.”

“But when you work together with people…”

“Ivana.” Maria put down the shovel. The ground looked soft and substantially more worked. “I will never tell you what to do. But I want you to remember that the weight of the world is not on your shoulders.”

~

~La Maestranza, Sevilla, Spain, seven years earlier~

“YOU’RE SUPPORTING MURDER, SENSELESS, CRUEL, SADISTIC ANIMAL CRUELTY AND MURDER!” Ivana shook her sign in front of the Spaniard’s face, knowing she was screaming enough that her spit was landing on him as he tried to shuffle in with his wife. He tried shoving her away, rushing into the bullring and turning and giving her a snarly look as he entered the gates. This was so, so tiring. Ivana almost felt like throwing her sign down and walking away from all her friends for a little while to take a break. But she knew she couldn’t. It was important to keep her head up, because the cause was just. There was absolutely no reason that anyone should be supporting disgusting bullfighting, and it was important for people to be called out on it. 

“Ay! Ivana, watch out from your end, we’ve been bitched out by security and they’re going to be calling the cops so we might have to make ourselves scarce if we don’t want to spend hours filling out paperwork at the fucking station!” Marko waved over at Ivana, who saluted him back with a wink. They were all used to this. The police, any fucking country they went to, loved to tail them, often to the point of hauling them away in their cruisers for a stern talking to and a few hours in custody, before being released. The way Luka had explained it to Ivana, years ago, was that the government was afraid of people like her, people that were willing to fight for what’s right. 

“You there, off, off you go with your friends! The cops are on their way! Out!” Another security guard was hounding her and Ema, coming out of the second gate. The crew had been parked out in front of both entrances all day, but Ivana supposed they had overstayed their welcome. Fuck anyone who worked here, anyway, for holding up this barbaric practice. 

“Get fucked, you bastard! You think the torture of animals is funny?” Ivana found herself trying to shove the security guard with one hand, until Ema pulled her away. 

“You’re nothing but neo-terrorist scum! Get out of here!”

“We got it, we got it, mister. We’re going.” Ema kept tugging Ivana’s arm, guiding her back towards the street as Marko and Luka followed. Ivana could feel her heartrate start to calm down, which was probably for the best. She knew she felt so tired because she was getting too riled up trying to help the bulls, but this was probably the break she needed. 

“But…”

“Don’t even try it, Ivana. We can demonstrate at the next match. If we’re around that day.” Luka got to the Jeep first, dumping her sign onto the floor of the car and climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

“We love your passion.” Marko got into the backseat with Ivana, while Ema took the wheel. “Here, I think we could all use some relaxation.”

Marko busied himself with a bag of weed in his pocket, fiddling with rolling papers and the like. Ivana flopped her head against the back of the seat. She hated when people threw out the word terrorist when referring to her and her friends. They did it more than she would like. Ivana couldn’t understand it. All they tried to do was help the air and water, and animals. They’d hold demonstrations against pipelines, things like that. Terrorists hurt people. Everything Ivana’s friends did tried to help everybody. Yet, enough people yelled in her face that Akcija Hrvatska Sada was a terrorist organization. It didn't make sense. They simply just had to have their heads in the sand about what the government was doing. 

“Here, baby.” Marko stuck a rolled joint into Ivana’s mouth and lit it. Ivana took a deep drag of it, watching the scenery in Sevilla roll by quickly. Spain certainly was pretty, when you could look past the bullfighting, the brutal racism, and so on. They’d been here for about six months, and to be honest, there was some sort of pull to it that made Ivana want to stay. They were here to change the world, so maybe one day, she would have to move on from Spain and go change the world somewhere else, but for the moment, Ivana felt light, letting her body relax fully. Being here was enough. 

~

Kun looked hard at the drawing in front of her. There was something wrong with it. The fat, lurching, warty creature that Valentina was fighting in the panel didn’t look wicked enough. There was something about him that looked a little bit like a kinder Jabba the Hutt, but with a genie’s pigtail. Incorrect and plagiarism. Lovely. Kun ripped the picture out of her notebook and crumpled it up. The baby was pushing against her organs and it made everything feel like there was pressure in her gut. 

Kun was trying hard to work on the second volume of Valentina’s story, to take her mind off everything. It was slowly coming along, and Kun knew well enough by now that you never rush art, but Kun was becoming painfully aware that this volume was a thinly, thinly veiled recreation of the last few years of her life. The only difference was, Valentina Rabia was kicking everyone’s ass, making things right and not yielding to anybody, and instead, Kun was sitting in a lady’s prison ten thousand kilometres from home, with no chance of that changing any time soon. Valentina would break out of prison in an instant. 

The monster in the picture was Peter Matthews, which is maybe what depressed Kun the most. She wanted to make him the absolute worst monster in Valentina’s story, she really did, but something still felt ultimately tame and unfrightening about the monster. Kun wondered if Peter Matthews was okay right now. She figured his light sentence was probably finished, although she didn’t know anything specific about his sentencing. She wondered if he’d made his way back to San Diego, if he was hiding in his home, alone and afraid of making real connections with people. Kun rather hoped that all his fancy memorabilia, the things he loved like the poster signed by Stan Lee, were safe. They were the most important thing in his life. Kun had tried hard to protect the most important thing in her life, Valentina, when she’d been admitted, and she didn’t want to think about Peter losing his favourite things. 

Kun never knew why she couldn’t bear to hate him. Kun tried to consider it a virtue that she could never seem to hate anyone, but maybe she ought to, at least sometimes. Kun picked up her pencil again, starting to sketch out panels for a new page. A new idea to flesh out. 

“What were you drawing?"

“Hm?” Kun looked up from where she sat cross-legged on her bed. She’d started using her stomach as a bit of a lap desk, so it was easier to draw in peace in her room. Sometimes Cristiana would come back to rest, or whine about something, and Kun would find herself chattering nonsensically to her about whatever came to mind, but it was still a soothing chatter. Unlike the real conversations she had to have in the rec room about whatever she was drawing. 

“What you crumpled up, what was it?”

Gino stood at the edge of the bedroom, leaning on the concrete partition separating her room from the next. 

“Oh, um.” Kun strained to lean forward and grab the ball of paper. “Just a scrapped idea for book two.”

“Can I see it?”

“You haven’t been very nice to me, Gino.” Kun looked down at her book. She now wished Cristiana would come back, give her an excuse to ramble about something in peace. Or even anyone to the bedrooms. It would make Gino go away. 

“Wouldn’t you freak out if you were me?”

“I saved your skin.” Kun tapped the eraser end of her pencil against the notebook. She still had a picture of the ultrasound left for him, in her cubby. She hadn’t given it to him, even though she’d intended to. She’d given one to Leo. She didn’t know what the hell Leo was feeling about this whole ordeal, but she’d carefully put it on her bedstand, leaning against her little lamp. It gave Kun a bit of vindication that Neymar had to stare at it every day. 

“Yeah…I know.” 

Kun tried to smooth out the picture, silently handing it over to Gino to see. She didn’t hate Gino either. Lord knew one of the wily men who betrayed Valentina was probably him. But she didn’t hate him for a second. 

“You’re getting really big, Kun. I…does the baby have somewhere to be? I could call my mom…”

“I’ve arranged for a foster home. It’s all taken care of.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, it…it was stupid for me to think that you…”

“Don’t worry about it. You got a minute to sit?”

Gino glanced at the door, before perching on Kun’s bed. “Does your belly move?”

“Yeah, it does. Leo thinks it’s really creepy.”

“You really love that girl, don’t you?” Gino reached his hand over, just slightly, to gently touch Kun’s. Kun felt sick thinking about the fact that Gino probably still had feelings for her. She’d been the one to betray him, really, even though she had been trying to help him. Then Leo had gotten involved again, and, well, here they were. 

“I do. I’ve known her since I was five, you know. There’s something about her, that’s just, it’s indescribable, but she draws you to her, and you love her.”

“And you really think it’s for keeps?”

“I…I don’t know, Gino. I try not to look at the future too hard anymore.”

Gino stayed quiet for a minute, before taking the crumpled picture. “Is she fighting pregnancy? Is that the fat monster?”

Kun felt herself laugh. Gino had always been funny. He’d always been able to talk for real about her passions, and it was something she really did love about him. 

“No, no, it’s just, a character. He isn’t going to make the cut, though. Or maybe he will. Just a lonely hermit that Valentina meets along the way on her quest. I need to rework his design, though.”

Gino nodded, reaching to scratch the back of his head. “Can I touch your belly, Kun?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s okay.” Kun lifted up her shirt for Gino to put the flat of his palm against. It was a strange feeling. This was the father of her child, and while the baby was rumbling around, Kun didn’t feel any pang of happiness like she thought she might. She felt happy when Leo caressed her tummy, but instead, Gino’s hands just felt big and warm, earnest for once, but not radiating joy for the baby. 

“Wow, there it is, eh? You know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

Kun shook her heard. “Gino? I don’t want you to get in trouble, but I do have something for you. Here.” Kun shoved her top back down and went to her cubby. “It’s a photo of the baby. Take care of it, okay? Go, go do your job.”

Gino smiled down at the photo, before tucking it into the jacket of his uniform and getting up, giving an awkward little wave as he left the bedroom. Kun took hold of her sharpener and gave her pencil a brisk sharpen. She’d sketch a new shot of Valentina facing the real villain of the volume. She already had a good idea. A woman masquerading as Valentina, running rampant in her life and leaving a trail of destruction in her wake, all while fooling Valentina’s loved ones that this was the real her. Kun could already see the plot in her head, and it was genius.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie continues to clash with the new girls, while Geri tries to win over allies in her plans to resist the prison system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! I've been in a writing mood so this update is pretty soon after the last one! I have a feeling you all might like this one.....I won't say why :)

“Look, you’ve got to actually cut neatly, are you kidding me? Are you stupid? Are you that stupid of a bitch? Are you? Are you? Are you?”

“Toni, shut the fuck up.” Jamie put her hand on her hip, while she kept stirring the pot of beans. Esca had been put on kitchen duty because one of the other girls from the Spanish table who had worked in kitchen had been released recently. Nobody else was really willing to guide the new girl, and instead, Toni was hovering over her and criticizing every single thing she did. She clearly never cooked, and likely would be better suited in a different job, but Toni was not making this better. 

“I don’t need your fucking help, coffee bean.”

Jamie rolled her eyes and turned back to her own job. She hated drama in the kitchen. It was like trying to cook while there were twelve grandmothers all around you trying to tell you, and each other, how to cook it right. She’d ignore the slur, too. It was a stupid insult, to compare her to Colombia’s major export, but she wasn’t going to try and dissect it. It was just gross. 

Jamie was beginning to realize that the new girls were so not ready for this lifestyle, very much like Cristiana in that regard, but they were trying to protect themselves with anger and harshness. They refused to be initiated into any group, instead huddling together on any break they had. They were only hurting themselves when they did it. They were burning their bridges with Cristiana quickly, that was for sure. Cristiana was still the same sweet, awkward person in private, but she was doing all she could to be the best fake Ramos she could be, and that meant cutting people off when they didn’t capitulate to her. Jamie couldn’t say she liked it that much, but she understood. 

“Jamie. I can’t help it. She’s stupid. I can’t deal with that kind of stupidity when we need things done in here. Don’t fucking tell me I shouldn’t tell her that she’s doing it wrong.”

Toni had been particularly harsh with all six girls. Jamie wondered why. She’d curse at Varane if she sat anywhere near her and Pepa at the Eurotrash table, and she’d insult and belittle any of the other five any chance she got. Jamie wouldn’t bother asking. Toni was so harsh and she’d only end up lashing out at Jamie too. But it was weird.   
“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Toni. Enough, though, okay?”

“Can you actually stand up for yourself at all, Rodriguez?” Esca dropped her knife from where she was chopping onions and stared at Jamie. 

“I don’t know what you…”

“Yeah you do. You fucking stuttering waste of space. You can’t even stand up to your friends.”

Jamie turned back to stare at Esca. That was a new one she hadn’t heard in here. It was one she hadn’t heard since she was really, quite little, actually. When she was just a little kid. She did stutter back then, but she thought she’d grown out of it. Nobody had mentioned it in years, not her parents, her teachers. Nobody even in here, where these girls were at their worst.

“I don’t st--…” 

“Yeah. You do.”

“Why are you targeting me?”

“I saw the way you looked at us. Like we were scum. Like you were so special for fucking your precious Cristiana Ronaldo. She’ll drop you the second she gets out, though.”

“Get fucked!”

“Toni, take over the cutting, right now, if you think she’s doing a bad job. Jamie, you know fucking better.” Luka had pushed her way between the two of them, but it wasn’t enough. Jamie flung her dirty wooden spoon at Esca. She was aiming for the head or face, but instead, it just hit her in the tit. Esca turned to grab her onion chopping knife, but Toni already had it. She grabbed an onion instead and chucked it at Jamie. It missed, and Jamie tried to scramble forward to hit her instead. She’d win. This girl didn’t know shit. Jamie still knew how to pin someone down to the ground with her legs and hold them there. 

“HEY! I mean it, Jamie!” Luka put her arms around Jamie’s waist and puller her away. Jamie felt herself trying to fight her way out of Luka’s arms, but she was strong too.

“BUT SHE’S…”

“I KNOW what’s she’s doing! You’re better than that!”

Jamie felt tears form in her eyes. This wasn’t fair. “But…”

“No! You’re better than that!”

“FINE!” Jamie ripped off her apron and hairnet, balling it up and throwing it at Luka. She didn’t care if she got in trouble later for ditching. She didn’t have anywhere to go, where people would see her, but she stormed out anyway. Jamie didn’t really know exactly where her feet were taking her, but it wasn’t long before she slammed through the doors of the little chapel. It would be empty. Guards only periodically poked their heads in to make sure all was well. 

There was one lone figure, though, sitting in the front pew, closest to the cross. The big curly hair told her it was Neymar. She turned, startled, when Jamie made noise coming through the door. 

“Oh, hey. Are you here to pray?”

“Do you do this every day, Neymar?” Jamie came to the front of the pew, sitting next to her and taking a deep breath. The chapel always gave her the creeps. It was so austere, and there was a weird aura to it. 

“Um, yeah, most days. Just for a little while. Here.” Neymar took Jamie’s hand, before reciting a prayer in Portuguese. Jamie stayed quiet and let her say it. She got little bits and pieces of what Neymar was saying, but Jamie’s Portuguese was pretty bad. Neymar spent a couple minutes on her piece, before staying quiet too. 

“You have a lot of dedication, Neymar.”

“Mmm, maybe. Aren’t you supposed to be cooking right now?”

“I got in a fight.” Jamie shrugged a bit. 

“Oh.” Neymar raised her eyebrows, surprised. Jamie never minded Neymar. She was loud and chaotic, but she was sweet. There were some people in the prison that really did hate her because of how she acted, but at the end of the day, she wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. 

“I…don’t really come to church, normally. It skeeves me out now.”

“Now?”

“I don’t know.” Jamie rested her head against the back of the hard wooden pew. “I don’t think God would find me very welcome in places of worship.”

“That’s not true.” Neymar shook her head hard. “God can forgive anybody. God has forgiven me for my sins, He can forgive you too. Whatever you did to get in here, He can forgive you for it.”

“It’s funny, Neymar,” Jamie stared up at the crucifix on the wall. “I don’t think He cares about what I did to get in here. But I did shit before this. I had two abortions. It’s that, mostly.”

“I didn’t know.” Neymar’s brow furrowed, distressed to hear it. 

“Nobody here knows. It’s made me lose a lot of faith, though.”

“Why did you get them?”

“I was just a kid with the first one. I was old enough to know better with the second, but I just, didn’t care enough about myself to use protection. The kids would have been born into such a bad life. I wasn’t ready to be a mom. And now it’s bit me in the ass because the second one went so badly that I don’t know if I even can have kids anymore.” Jamie suddenly realized her face was wet, and she tried to wipe the tears away with her sleeve. 

“God forgives you for it. I know He does. It’s okay, don’t cry.” Neymar awkwardly tried to put her arm around Jamie’s shoulder. “God would prefer you have babies you love.”

“You’re so endlessly optimistic, Neymar. I admire it.”

“I’m not quite always a shining example of behaviour either. I’m doing things even now that I shouldn’t. But you gotta always tell yourself that there’s things to look forward to, that you’re not alone, that you know you’re not wicked.”

“I hate the new girls, Neymar. You don’t care. I just gotta say it.”

“Try not to hate them, that’s a strong word. I only hate one person and he deserves it. Why do you feel like that towards them?”

“They remind me of girls I used to know. They almost remind me of how I used to behave, for awhile, in my life.”

“But that’s not you now.”

“Mm, I know.” Jamie stared at the sun coming in through the frosted glass window behind the crucifix. She’d stick around for awhile, see if there was anything she could drum up to say to God herself. “You can keep praying, Neymar. Don’t let me interrupt you. You know me, I’ll be quiet.”

~

~Ibagué, Colombia, five years earlier~

“Are you sure you don’t feel like coming, Jamie? It’s such a good opportunity, though. Imagine, you could get a job in America! Come on, Jamie, come on!”

Camila was buzzing in Jamie’s ear like a fly. Jamie was camped out on Rev’s couch, where she’d been for at least the last three hours. Jamie didn’t want to move. Everything was just cramps. She felt terrible that she was using up his space like this, making him uncomfortable in his own home, but god, she hoped he understood how poorly she felt. She wanted to get up and go home, she really did. Part of her was afraid that if something happened at home, though, everyone would find out what she did. 

“Not up to it, Cami, I’m just not up to it.”

“He could change you life!”

“I think he’s a scam artist.” Rev spoke up from his place in the chair, as he awkwardly watched TV. Jamie felt a little grateful that he spoke. She agreed fully. 

“Can I spend the night at your house tonight, girl?” Jamie knew she was mumbling. Her arm was covering half her face anyway to shield it from the light coming from the window in the living room. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay, but I think I’m going to go out. See if he’s there. Oh, come on! Just come along for a bit. We won’t leave for ages and ages anyway! You’ll feel better!

“Maybe, Camila, I don’t know, okay? Can we go home now? Rev, baby, I am so sorry I’m still here. We’re gonna get out of your hair, okay? We’re gonna leave.”

“God, you’re so bossy today.” Camila sat at the end of the couch on its arm. Jamie wanted to hit her. 

“Hey, she’s had a hard day.”

Jamie felt eternally grateful for Rev right now. She couldn’t bear to ever look him in the face again, and she probably wouldn’t be friends with him after this, but thank god for him right now. She sat up slowly. It wasn’t too bad. She wished she had some pill on her to get rid of the pain, a headache tablet or something. Maybe Camila did at home. 

“Okay, let’s go, let me have a nap at your place and I’ll think about coming with you.” Jamie stood up now, still slowly and carefully, before grabbing her purse. “Thanks again, Rev.”

The two of them left the apartment, and Jamie gauged that she didn’t feel too bad. Just as if she was just having a shitty period. Nothing she couldn’t handle. At least Camila’s shitty place wasn’t too far away, and she lived in the basement suite, so no loads of stairs. Jamie didn’t even bother with her couch, going right to her futon and clocking out nearly as soon as she’d hit the pillow. 

Jamie didn’t know how long she was actually out for, but it didn’t seem long enough when Camila finally began to shake her back awake. Jamie had had a lot of weird dreams, imagery of shrieking dolls and other slightly strange and creepy kid’s toys, although none of them really scared her. Her tummy did feel quite a bit better now, at least. 

“What time is it?”

“You just slept for like seven hours. It’s eleven. I want to get going.”

“At night?” Jamie sat up and blinked. Camila was all made up. Heavy makeup, a little glittery skirt, big, overly curled hair. She really did want to go. 

“Yeah, at night. Are you going to come?”

“I’m not in very good clubbing clothes. And I’m not made up.”

“Borrow mine, put a little on. You have a pretty face, you don’t need that much. You won’t fit my pants, you want a skirt with an elastic waistband? You might be able to squeeze in.”

Jamie felt a little annoyed that Camila was alluding that she was fat. “No, I don’t really want a skirt. I’m bleeding enough that I don’t want to risk it. My jeans are fine. Get me a crop top or something.”

“You’re wearing a crop top.”

“A nicer crop top.” Jamie got up and wandered to Camila’s bathroom, closing the door. All her makeup was splayed all over the counter. Jamie picked up the eyeliner. She never did terrible wings. A bit of eye makeup and some lipstick would be good enough. Jamie slapped it on, before getting a new pad out of Camila’s drawer. The pad she had on was bloody enough, but it wasn’t horrible. She wasn’t sure how much she was meant to bleed out, but hopefully this was a normal amount. 

“Okay, I’m ready to go, can we go now?”

“Finally, here, here. Put this one on.” Camila thrust a more glittery cropped tank at Jamie. It would barely fit, but it would do. She’d shove her tits into it somehow. 

“I’m not staying long. I’ll pay for a cab, okay?”

Jamie finished shoving herself as best she could into the top and followed Camila out the door. The guy probably wasn’t even going to be there. Jamie still felt tired, even though she’d just slept for so long. The cab ride wasn’t long enough. Jamie felt like balking when they entered La Tribu, but dragged herself in with Camila. 

“What’s the guy’s name again?”

“Radamel. Do you listen?”

“I had other things on my mind. I’m going to go get a drink, you go dance if you want and let me know if you see him. He’s probably not here.” Jamie slouched off to the bar and took a seat. The club was loud and terrible. It was past when she really preferred to be in bed already. And really, at the end of it, she didn’t want to see the man who was just shoving things into her vagina, to be terribly honest. She watched Camila get excited, dancing close to lots of men. Jamie had danced like that with men at clubs like this. Even this very club. It felt okay in the moment, but there was always a feeling of emptiness after Jamie did it. 

Camila swayed her way over to Jamie, already happy and loose despite not having had any drinks. She offered her hands to Jamie, trying to lead her in to dance with her. Her stomach still hurt a little bit, and her drink was half-done, but Jamie let Camila lead her into the crowd anyway. Camila was shouting something gleefully, although it was too loud for Jamie to process it properly. She pulled her further in to the throng of excited people, until Jamie found herself face-to-face with Radamel. He had gone to the club for the night. Jamie stretched her face into a thin grimace of a smile at him. Her stomach suddenly hurt a whole lot more. 

“You did come!” Radamel said something else to her, something Jamie couldn’t hear over an abrupt base drop. 

“Can we just dance a little while? I’m not staying very long!” Jamie’s voice strained over the noise. Camila had already abandoned her to dance with more men. She was nearby, Jamie could still see her popping her bum out against strangers close to her, but she was not willing to be support in this. Jamie didn’t want to talk any more with this guy. She’d dance against him for awhile, let Camila have her fun, then disappear. Go home in a cab, dragging Camila, kicking and screaming, home. Every time Radamel tried to whisper something into her ear, Jamie would turn her head and grind up against him a little more. Refuse to look up at his face. Her stomach was doing bigger and bigger flops, and the music was making her feel dizzy. Too dizzy. 

“You’re a good dancer, you know!”

Jamie nodded, barely hearing him. The room was almost spinning. She needed away from this noise, away from him. The bathroom would be a solace, even for a few minutes. 

“I’m just going to the…” Jamie pointed towards the bathroom, letting her sentence peter off. It was easy to slip away from him before he could protest. The bathroom still thumped with the beat of the music, but it was a dull sound. Jamie pushed her way into a stall as soon as one was available, collapsing on the seat quickly before she risked falling on the floor. 

As soon as Jamie was sitting, she became painfully aware of how wet she felt. No. He promised everything would be fine. Jamie pulled down her jeans, a jolt of terror going through her as soon as she saw how much blood there was. It had soaked through the pad and was coming through her underwear. There was even a spot on her jeans. Oh god. This is what she deserved for how stupid she was. She fucking deserved this. There was still blood pouring out of her into the toilet. Too much. Camila probably wouldn’t hear her phone, but it was the only shot she had. Jamie stood up just enough to pull her purse off the hook on the door of the stall and dug through it for her phone. The room was still spinning, but Camila’s number was the last one she dialed. She just had to coordinate her fingers enough to hit redial. 

~

“Are you out of your mind, Geri?”

Geri scowled at Leo, before taking her pot of dulce de leche to stick her finger in it. Leo hadn’t liked her suggestion that they needed to start, as a collective prison, speaking out about certain issues to Enrique and Zidane. 

“Geri, I love you, but that’s just…”

“No, tell me what’s stupid about it. Tell me what’s stupid about how this prison is filled with mostly poor people, mostly mentally ill people, mostly addicts who can’t get any help, and they treat us with no dignity?”

“Mobilizing usually leads to bad things like prison riots.”

“I’m not gonna…!” Geri felt frustrated. She’d spoken to Ivana again, and Ivana had listened a little better this time. She’d told Geri that she wasn’t going to do anything to ruffle Enrique’s feathers too seriously, and she wasn’t going to do anything to stress Maria out, but if Geri could produce a concrete idea on how to safely get action, she’d help. 

“Don’t get upset with me, Geri. I get it. I have a girlfriend who is getting little to no medical care for her pregnancy. It drives me nuts. She’s seen her OB-GYN once. They used to give her pregnancy supplements and stopped after three months because it was ‘good enough’ to them. But what the fuck is actually going to get done? I’ve seen news stories of prisons that try to take a stand, and it ends so badly for them. And at this point, she’s so fucking pregnant, that I don’t want anything going down when she might need help.”

Geri sighed deeply, getting up and giving Leo’s head a scratch. “You’re starting to get roots.”

“I made my bed with this hair and now I have to lie in it.” Leo shrugged, staring absently across the room. 

“It’s kinda you, Leo. The blond. I’m going to go wander, I might go outside. I’m restless.”

“Remember, you’re halfway done your sentence.”

Geri turned and nodded, before wandering off down the hall. It was a weird thing for Leo to say, but she knew why. Leo was giving her a reminder that it was only uphill from here. Time was now on her side for getting out of here and it was her job not to fuck it up. Three years done, three years to go. Would Shakira still love her in three years? That thought put Geri off. She needed to take her mind off it. Geri walked into the salon, to see if she could pester Marta. 

“Hey, are you busy?”

Marta looked busy. She was foiling someone’s hair. Another victim of the blond hair craze started by Leo. 

“What do you need from me, Ger? Do you need a haircut?”

Geri didn’t. Her hair had grown in enough after her less than genius idea to shave it off, but it wasn’t long enough for a trim. “No, I wanted to ask if you thought it was a good idea to get girls together to talk about bringing some issues to the table with Enrique and Zidane.”

“I mean, yeah.” Marta barely looked up, engrossed in her work. “The system is fucked. I would love to hammer some stuff out. I mean, a lot of my issues come from the judicial system and law enforcement itself, but this place is pretty bad.”

Geri felt vindicated. Marta was on her side. “I wanted to get us stuff like a new bathroom door.”

“Why stop there?” Marta paused and instructed her charge to turn her head a little bit. Geri waited patiently. “You could talk about stuff like mental health care, medication, counselors.”

Ah. Sabi was still on Marta’s mind, right on the surface. That could work. Marta would be a good ally for helping if she felt passionately enough about mental health care, and Geri knew how much she did. How much she’d fought to get Sabi care, but how she couldn’t help anyone else. 

“Do you know anyone else who might have ideas to bring to the table? I’ve talked with Ivana a bit. She wants me to bring her a plan.”

“I don’t know. Who else has major issues with this place?”

Geri paused and thought for a minute, before booking it out of the salon, leaving Marta practically mid-sentence. Geri pushed out the door to outside, out to the little track. There was Bale, out for her run. Neither Ronaldo or Jamie was with her, and Geri wondered where either of them were. Oh well. It would make her job easier. Geri ran up behind her and tapped her shoulder. 

“Hey, Bale!”

“That sounds like haybale.” Bale spoke in English, quietly to herself. Geri spoke English, but she knew Bale didn’t know that and was only dryly saying it to herself. “Um, what can I do for you?”

“Hey, so we both know that Ramos was totally imprisoned in max unlawfully, right?”

“Um.” Bale didn’t slow her pace, forcing Geri to keep up with her. Geri wasn’t much of a runner. This was going to be difficult. 

“We know she was. We know it was Giroud’s heroine.”

“You don’t have to remind me, Pique, okay?”

“It was bullshit. I’m trying to find people to help me in resisting, a bit, against the prison. I want to supply a list of things we need done for us, things like building maintenance, and I want to make sure it’s done.”

“I’m not gonna do that, Pique.”

“But why? You know this shit will keep happening.”

“I deserve everything I get in here, Pique. My job here is to put my head down and get by day by day. Even if that means no hot water, bad food, things like that.”

“Aren’t you a masochist.”

“Look, why do you want my help?” Bale stopped running abruptly, turning to face Geri. 

“Because I thought that you’d want to help if it meant getting Ramos out of max.”

Bale stayed still. Geri waited with baited breath. She was so close. She almost had Bale on her side. 

“I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“You won’t. No one wants to get in trouble.”

“If I’m going to help you…that needs to be a condition. That one of your demands is the release of Sabina.”

“Done and done. I promise to you right now, Bale, Ramos will walk among us again.”

~Maximum Security, two weeks later~

“Ladies, there are now ten minutes left before the recreation centre is CLOSED for the afternoon, after which all inmates must return immediately and quietly to their cells. Ten minutes until the recreation centre is CLOSED.”

“Did the two hours really go by that quickly? Hey, you didn’t even look over at me, hey, hey, hey.”

Grizi’s hands were suddenly in Sabina’s face, snapping her fingers at her. Sabina batted Grizi’s hand away, still silent. She didn’t even know why she even ever came out into the recreation space, if that was what it was. It was empty, save for a few dumbbells and a few rattly metal picnic tables. There was a basketball hoop, but there was no basketball for it. If anything, she supposed it was for the fresh air. The room had no roof, so you could breathe a little easier, away from the rank smell indoors. But other than that, it was no different than being in your cell. Cells had eight bunks, but they usually weren’t full. If there were only five or six inmates in one, whoever ranked highest usually could snatch a second bunk for their things. And then that was it. You were locked in with those five other fuckers for the rest of the day, only escaping them at meal time. Grizi was one of those irritating fuckers. Sabina hated her, and anyway, she had weird eyebrows. 

“You’re a piece of shit, Ramos.” Grizi didn’t walk away, instead slumping back down on the picnic bench next to her. Sabina wished she would walk away. All these girls could walk off the edge of the fucking earth and it wouldn’t make any difference to her. 

“Maybe.”

“I bet living in min was like living at a palace compared to here. What were the meals like? What did you do?”

“Get fucked, Griezmann.” Sabina got up and started her way towards the gate to wait to get back inside. She never thought someone could piss her off in the same way Pique did, but somehow, Grizi did, more aggressively and constantly. She was always there, hanging off of Sabina, not because she looked up to her, or anything, but because she liked to pick and irritate. The rest of the women she shared a bunk with, Sabina had little contact with. There was Godin, Oblak, Grizi, Carrasco, and herself, but she didn’t bother any of them. 

Sabina knew she wasn’t to cause grief in here, not this time. She’d never let one of these stupid cunts walk over her, not ever, but she would never be the one to cause upset again. Behaving was so much harder than Sabina could have possibly realized. It had never been in her heart to behave, ever since she was born. In minimum security, she had fought hard enough to behave at least part of the time, in order to maintain contact with Sergio, but Sabina knew how much of a nightmare she was to the prison guards, and to every inmate around her. Now, Marco wouldn’t even take a call from her, and there was no other option but to try as hard as she could to get out as soon as possible. At the very least, on time. Maybe Marco was right. Maybe Sergio needed space from her, to grow and be a little boy without being hampered by the grief and embarrassment of his mother in prison. But she would never give up on him. She would get out, she would regain his trust, no matter what it took. 

“Inmates! Line up at the gates—single file—and wait for a guard to bring you back to your cell!” 

Sabina leaned her head against the mesh of the gate and waited as the rest of the women, slowly, and fucking painfully, lined up behind her. They’d argue and push and shove. Sabina knew some big brute of a woman would possibly try to force her out of her position at the front of the line. She’d say no, and it might cause a scuffle or small fight, but as long as she didn’t start it, Sabina felt soothed. Like she was doing her job for her son. 

“Move, you cushy-ass bitch, get used to not everything being your fucking way.”

Sabina was used to this by now. The women here swore and swore, in front of all the guards, enough that she no longer was the woman with the worst sailor mouth in prison. The woman was big and scary and bald, and honestly, probably some sort of neo-Nazi. She had a cross tattoo under her eye. Nice. She bet God was sure just dying to meet her. 

“I don’t give a fuck if you only get validation by getting to walk into your cell before everyone else does, get fucked and get moving.” Sabina didn’t even shift her head and look the woman in the eye. This could go one of both ways. The woman would hit her, and Sabina would have to hit back, or she’d keep moving. The woman chose option two after giving Sabina’s shoulder a sharp shove, slouching to the back of the line. The women were led back indoors, guards corralling them into their cells for the day. Some of the women would fight and struggle when being shoved into their cells, try and hit at the guards, even bite them. Sabina didn’t feel sorry for them. She knew these were the women who murdered, assaulted, were major drug providers. Sabina didn’t even feel sorry for herself. She knew how awful what she’d done was. But that was life. It was awful, she was awful, and all she could be was better for Sergio. She’d feel sorry for her friends back in minimum security if they were here. They were virtually all harmless, and none of them had what it took to survive in here. These girls…no. They were getting what they deserved. 

Sabina flopped on her bunk, watching with annoyance as Oblak came in and climbed up to rest on her bunk above her. Seniority got you the top bunk, she supposed. There was a toilet against the back wall of the middle of the room, which was the fucking worst. The very fucking worst. Sabina thought, with fondness, of the four decrepit toilets with broken doors over in minimum security. How private they now seemed. Sabina turned towards the wall as the other women settled in, some chatting a little between each other. If you could call it chatting. Maybe bitching was a better word. 

“…And she said that up there, word’s getting out about discontent. Fucking riot, I tell you. What a fucking, fucking joke. Those cunts live like queens.”

Sabina turned back over, immediately, feeling a weird chill go up her spine. “Hey, you, you there. What are you talking about?”

Grizi, presently using the toilet as a chair, looked annoyed. “Up at your old home. Your little princesas are angling for an uprising.”

“Who the fuck told you that?”

“Wow, suddenly you listen to me. I have my sources. Some of us get to finish our sentences in your prison. I’ve kept in contact.”

“I shouldn’t believe you.” Sabina turned back towards the wall. The woman was probably out of her mind. She probably didn’t know anything. 

“Are you fucking worried about them, Ramos? A girlfriend or something? Ramos misses her fuckbuddy, everyone.”

“I’m not fucking anyone and I’ll kill you if you say that again.” Sabina ran her hand through her hair. They’d taken away her headband when she’d come to max. I guess they thought she could strangle someone with it. They weren’t wrong. 

“Believe me or don’t, but they say there’s no upkeep. Can you believe it? What cunts.”

Sabina could believe it. She knew the girls. Enough of them had chips off their shoulder about their incarceration. And some of them loved to make trouble about it. Sabina hoped it wasn’t anything major. It could hurt Gwen. If everyone went down up there, it could extend her sentence. Then again, if they did things right, maybe it could help them. Sabina sorely hoped Gwen was doing alright without her. She didn’t think anyone would hurt her without her protection. Gwen was loved enough by many. She’d be fine, just as long as she managed to pick herself up without Sabina there. 

“Do you know anything about who started it?” Sabina kept staring at the wall. Whoever lived here before her had etched a lot of shitty porn into the wall. 

“This bitch who is such a piece of shit her mom pays to keep her out of max. That’s all I got, Ramos. What, you know who I’m talking about?”

Sabina felt a smile creep onto her lips. Of course. Of fucking course it was Pique. Sabina wanted to laugh. If anyone was going to cause an upset, it had to be her. 

“No. I can’t imagine who you mean.”


End file.
